


Mnemosyne: The Plunge

by FeyNWiddershins



Series: Mnemosyne [1]
Category: Black Widow (MCU), Deadpool - All Media Types, Hawkeye (Comics), Jessica Jones (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel (Movies), Marvel 616, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Adult Content, Canon-Typical Violence, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Major Original Character(s), Marvel 616/MCU Crossover, Multi, Original Character-centric AU, Other, There's no smut but there is sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-18
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:10:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 62,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4624833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeyNWiddershins/pseuds/FeyNWiddershins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Superheroes are commonplace. They save people everyday. Sometimes the people they save have more in store from them than a good story to tell the friends over a brew. Meet Tessa. She's what, in polite company, you'd call 'not normal'. </p><p>"What do you remember? What do you *really* remember? Because I remember everything, literally everything. What I ate eight years ago, on the eighteenth Monday of the year, at one thirty in the morning. It was popcorn and pickles. Do you have any idea what that is like? Do you think your psychotherapy can help that?"</p><p>Life for her can be... trying. Tessa's never been normal. Never, not from the moment she was brought into this world. She cannot forget. It's her superpower. Or, as she refers to it, her super-curse. She's never known what normal feels like. Then, she found a new community.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Night in the Hospital

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, kind reader! What you've happened upon here is a pet project, a passion piece, something that's been in the works for years now. Tessa has been floating around in my head, interacting with the characters of the Marvel Universe for what feels like eons. She's how I've enjoyed the worlds on page and screen for a good, long while. Thanks for taking a chance on her! And never fear, the one's you've come for feature large in the story! It is a Marvel Universe fan fiction, after all.  
> Speaking of, it is a crossover and that means some characters won't be the exact ones you are expecting. I pick and choose the types I prefer, the ones that seem truest to the universe in my head, and most of those you'll be able to identify quickly (I hope!). For a complete definition of who's who from where, see the end notes.  
> Along that same vein, Tessa's little foray into the Marvel multi-verse constitutes my own alternate universe, a patchwork of people and events from MCU and 616 from years of watching it evolve. I've held off bringing her into the world for so long, I'm no longer happy with a simple crossover. Instead, I am adding to the multiverse a world vaguely familiar and largely following the timeline of the MCU post the cinematic installment that shall not be named, but with some glaring exceptions. I'm alluding here to the robot-centric ensemble flick of Summer 2015. You know the one. Everything that takes place within that film has been excluded, save the bare bones of universe-changing events. You'll get the gist soon enough, I hope. Suffice it to say you'll find no BruceNat here. Not sorry.  
> Anyway, this means that I have to stick to a branching off point from here on out and that is the summer of 2015. I.e., some of these characters haven't been introduced into the MCU yet, but will be soon. That MCU canon will not factor in here, because I simply cannot foresee how they will be characterized and into what situation they'll be placed, and I have no taste for retconning my own writing. It is a dark truth that I and you, if you choose to, will have to endure. You've been warned...

It had been one of those dreary, shitty days that makes you wonder if winter will ever wane into spring. The night was proving to be more of the same, just somehow darker. In the city it was never truly dark, but that didn't mean it didn't feel like night. The shadows made it night, the way they crept and ebbed and made the hair on the back of your neck prick up. Or, maybe it was what things the shadows hid. It just wasn't nighttime in this creeping shithole if you weren't in some kind of bodily danger. Those threats didn't bother her, though. The bleak phosphorescent glare of the hospital did, and the fact that this was her fourth one.

 Her feet hurt, probably more a psychological pain than physical, and she had that twinge behind her eyes that hinted at a stress headache. She'd been clenching her jaw for too long, could practically hear it grinding as she crossed the threshold. The creak of those awful floor mats matched the groaning of her teeth. This one was the worst. She'd saved it for last, hoping she wouldn't have to come here.

"I fucking hate this place." It was barely a mumble, but there was this feeling that something in this place heard her all the same. Or at least saw her say it. She resisted the urge to shiver and trudged towards the front desk.

The door opened behind her, sent a rainy gust chilling through the atrium. And blowing her hair into her face. The attendant didn't seem to care that she was left spitting hair from her mouth and peeling it from her eyes.

"Can I help you?" It sounded more like 'I can't help you. Go away.' There was impatience in her voice as she waited for a response. "Miss? Can I help you?"

"Yeah. I'm looking for information on someone who might have stopped in here. Kidnapping case." There was still hair in her mouth. She pushed through the taste of shampoo and acid rain. "You got a supervisor, head of security that I can talk to?"

She couldn't find her ID. There was no way she could have lost that.

"Can I see some kind of identification? Patient confidentiality and all that…"

Halfway through the bag and she found it. Wrapped in a tissue. No telling how that happened. "Uh, yeah… here. Alias Private Investigations."

"Never heard of 'em. Jessica Jones? Put your name on the sheet. I'll call Hannah."

"Gee. Thanks." She knew this wasn't going to be easy. Night shifts are always less amenable. A little shadier.

One more _plth_ and the hair was finally out of her mouth. Now she could get on her game. What game she had. Right, big hospital, lots of eyes… she had to start with the nurses' sta--

Who was she kidding? She was horrible at this. One kid. How hard could it be to find one kid? Well, four hospitals and a billion questions later she had the answer: Too hard for ole' Jess, queen of failure.

The sigh was louder than she'd intended. The attendant raised a brow at her. Screw her. Had she even made that call?

"Mind if I walk around while I wait?"

"You're signed in. I can't stop you." That didn't seem right, but Jessica let it go. Piece of gum and a pinch at the bridge of her nose and she was back on her… minor league game. The gum helped, got the taste of the night and stale cleaning smell out of her mouth. Made her more aware, too. She began noticing the little things, like how freaky clean the place was. And empty.

"Uh, Sparky? Where're all the people at?"

The attendant did not appreciate the nickname. "S'night. People go home."

"Uh-huh." This was a huge research hospital with tons of live in doctors and patients. They should have been around. Signs pointed out another branch, more serious words. It was easy to amble that way. Like the attendant said, she wasn't going to stop her.

"Moron. She never called anyone. I'm just going to have to do this myself the hard way." Five minutes of walking made that 'hard way' pretty easy. No one stopped her, but she did start seeing people around. They didn't give her a second glance, which was a tad disturbing. She didn't even have a tag on.

"No wonder people get lost in these places…" She was starting to feel sick, helpless. This was looking hopeless. A nurses' station up ahead made her feel a little better. But only a little.

"Uh, excuse me?"

"Visiting hours are over. You can wait in the overnight lounge, through those doors." He pointed through glass doors to a few benches and a hallway full of doors. Some overnight lounge. He didn't even look up at her to see where she'd gone. Very lax visitation rules.

"Yeah. I'm not here for a patient. I'm here hoping to talk to staff, maybe security."

"That's the other end of the hospital."

"You mean the ghost town where nothing gets done and time stands still?"

"Yeah." The way he smiled made her want to gag. "That's the place. I can't help ya."

She leaned over the counter, finally getting his attention. "Look, I'm lookin' for a kid. It's a cold case and he's sick. Give me the time o' day here, man."

"What's this? A missing kid? How long?" A passing nurse stuttered to a stop. Finally, someone who looked like they still had some spirit.

"Just under a year. Diabetic. Probably came through here after the big battle."

The new nurse sighed. "People just fall into thin air around here these days. We can point you in the right direction but patient info is under a confidentiality agreement."

"The right direction is all I'm looking for. Just haven't gotten word of it yet." Jessica showed her ID, a picture of the missing kid, and glared at the other nurse.

"Glen, you bein' a tool?" The nurse smacked him over the head with a clipboard but shook her head. "I can't remember, not that face, not that far back. Bad day. Bad year. Hospital sealed a bunch of information around the whole "incident". And a lot's been accidentally misplaced. You want something from that, you technically have to go through Terry, fill out the forms and all that. But…" she leaned in close, stuck a nametag on Jess's lapel, "we all know how that goes. Room 2727. That's the best I've got."

"2727. Thanks." Jess smoothed out the name tag. 'Sophia.' Interesting.

"Sure. Just be patient with her. She's a clever girl but she's sensitive." A patient as a source? This was getting even more interesting. Didn't matter. Jessica wasn't a lawyer, didn't need admissible sources, just a nudge in the right direction.

"Got it. I'll be sugar sweet, no worries."

The nurse watched her as Jess wandered off. That was something.

The room 2727 was quite a ways away. In fact, it was way the hell in the corner of the top tower of the fuckall wing. Jessica felt immediately uncomfortable in the place. It was less sterile, more lowlit, carpeting from the late seventies and crappy waiting room furniture everywhere. Worst was the decorations, they had the nursing home vibe, personalized in the 'you're gonna live here 'til you die' kinda way, impermanently permanent. All the same, there was life here. Smells of food and laundry, sounds of television, conversation and music. This was where the terminal and the critical lived until the hospital couldn't keep them in residence anymore. Whether by money or illness.

Jessica cringed at a memorial sign on a door she passed and started looking for the numbers. The room she was directed to was literally the last in a corner and the most like a dorm room. It had a doormat and decorations on it with flowers and soft paisley patterns. Outside the door was a stack of books and newspapers, each in pristine condition. A closer look told Jess they were library items.

"An avid reader."

The box behind it was just as full of dvd cases, all with library labels. This poor girl was bored out of her mind. Inside, Jess could hear the overlapping of music and dialogue and behind all that, the faint tapping of keys. She resisted the urge to look at the chart waiting beside the door, as thick as a phone book, and instead knocked.

"It's not time. I told you I'm not taking that treatment anymore, it makes me dizzy." Her voice is surprisingly strong for a live in, and assertive.

 Jess knocked again. "Uh, not from the hospital. I was told this was the place to go if I want to know something."

On the other side of the door the music and dialogue silenced, followed by a crash and a string of curses, then silence. Jess counted to ten before venturing something else.

"I'm a PI. Jessica Jones for Alias Private Investigations. I'm here looking for leads on a kidnapping during the Battle of New York. A nurse downstairs said this was where I would get info, not the hospital staff."

"A kidnapping?" The door opened just a millimeter. Jess was met with an eye, bright but cautious, staring out at her.

"Uh, yeah. Hi. Yeah, I'm trying to find this kid. His name's Harley and his parents think he had to be taken to one of the hospitals in the area sometime around the day the sky fell down."

A small hand slipped out and took the picture. "A lot happened that day. A lot under the table."

"Yeah, that's what I figured. That's why I think, the nurse, she sent me your way. You know anything? See anything?"

"And you're trying to return this boy to his parents?" She waited until Jessica nodded and then opened the door a little wider. "Sophie sent you?"

Jess took off the name tag. "Yeah, I guess. Here."

The door opened the rest of the way to accept the name tag. It revealed a studiously organized office that just happened to have a bed. Or a bedroom lived in by a robot. Its occupant didn't exactly look the part of resident though. She was in loose linen clothes of no discriminate color. Something along the lines of 'everything I own gets bleached' hue. Her hair was mussed on one side, chopped off just below the chin and hanging in a frame around her face.  As Jess took in the sight, its owner pressed it nervously against her face. She was a twitchy specimen, pale from hospital living, clearly uncomfortable in her own skin. Also uncomfortable expressing herself. It took her a few times before she formed her next sentence.

"And--and you're helping the boy. Right? The boy. Not just some parents wanting… wa--wanting tax breaks."

"Yeah. I'm trying to. By finding him. He's diabetic and his parents are worried because the nanny who took him left without his insulin."

"Oh. Oh… no." Her face dropped and she dropped her guard at the door. Jess followed her as she slumped into a chair with the photo. "Yes. I saw him. He and a woman, about twenty-five, average height, brown hair, light eyes. They were here the day after the incident. That… that explains the seizure."

"Seizure? Shit."

"He's okay. Or he was when they left. The team stabilized him. I guess they figured out his condition, treated him, and released him. I saw them leave while I was in the ER."

"You had an accident?" If she were ill, her information wouldn't count for much.

"No. No. I was volunteering. Decided the kids' lesson could wait for a few days while the city needed extra hands."

"Oh. You… work here as well as… live here."

"I'm a lifer, yes, but I'm not useless. I teach the children who can't leave their ward. They're good kids, bright minds. They deserve… a--a chance… to learn. Besides, I'm not doing anything but taking up space… and research funds…"

Jessica cleared her throat. "Uh…  so you saw them the day after. When they came in the boy was having seizures and he was stable when they left. Correct?"

She looked up sharply. "What? Oh. Yes." Her hands ran shakily over the photograph. "And the parents are just now looking for him? Odd."

"Cold case. Cops gave up. Doesn't help that the nanny turned out to be his biological mother. And an enhanced."

"A what?"

"Nothing. Never mind. Did you see which way they were going? Hear any plans, or places, maybe?"

She seemed to ponder over Jess' words for a moment. Then her face changed. "I know you, or rather, I've seen you here before. You were in the other wing. And not conscious. You were--"

"Yeah. I'm not here to relive my past crap, chica. I'm here to dig up info on this kid. Remember anything else about him?"

"Remember?" She smiled sadly. "Oh, yes. I remember more about him. Are you ready?" She nodded at Jess' pen and paper.

"Hit me, girlie."

"They came in just after the night shift change, at 7:48. Smart, like she knew when the nurses and staff would be off step. She was wearing an old hoodie with the Giants logo on it, stained around the arms, now I think from the boy's vomit. Her hair was dyed that color brown, it was streaky like she did it herself. Her shoes, nike tennis shoes, small and black, were muddy and it looked like she'd fallen on one knee in that same mud. The blood from that was running down her jeans. That was not unusual that day."

She recounted without pause, without blinking. Jess fought to keep her mouth closed.

"It smelled like blood and burning hair when she and the boy came in, I'm guessing they came from one of the blast zones. She yelled for help and Nurse Deanna helped her. No paperwork was filled out, no time, or materials for that matter. She said her name was Tracy and the boy's name was Johnny. He had been seizing for a few minutes and before that he'd been woozy and sick, she thought from a head injury. She claimed a building fell in on them and she couldn't get out to take him to the hospital until just recently. That's when Deanna took them out of earshot. When they left the boy was pulling and the woman whispering something in his ear. He shouted that he hated camp and she said it was safer there. They left then. It was nine twenty-one. That's all I saw and heard."

"Oh… oh, that's all?" Jess was having trouble writing it all down.

She scoffed lightly. "Yeah, that's all."

"Jesus, chica. Talk about total recall. Got anything else stored up in there?"

"Yeah. Everything."

Jess did a double take. This girl was dead serious. "What'cha mean 'everything'?"

"Well, everything I personally experience. All stored up here." She tapped her head.

"You're shitting me."

She shook her head. She was decidedly not enthusiastic about this admission. "'Fraid not."

"Okay. That's batshit crazy and I'm incredibly impressed, if a little concerned about your sanity." Jess gave up writing all that down and closed her notepad. "How do you do that?"

"That's what all these lab coats are trying to figure out. And how to make it go away."

She was quiet for several beats and Jessica let that sink in. That was when she actually looked at the room. There were eight degrees stowed on different shelves over the walls. They all read 'Theresa Beth Bisho'. At least two of them were on things Jess had never heard of. The spartan emptiness of the room was actually not emptiness, just an absence of personal items. There were books and technology and clothes, just not photographs or art or knickknacks.  One sad frame sat on a nightstand and in it sat a crayon scrawled note on extra-wide notebook paper. A student's note. It was dated 2002 in a tight neat hand.

"How long have you been here?" Jess backpeddled when her host hesitated to answer. "Not to be invasive. Sorry."

"This is my home, if that's what you're wondering. I've lived here for as long as matters and I don't foresee myself leaving."

"Wh--why?" Jess couldn't help herself. This woman seemed perfectly healthy. What could have kept her here for so long?

"My super-curse. You just saw it. I don't do well in the real world and the lab coats haven't been able to fix it."

"Fix your perfect memory? Girlie, you don't fix superpowers. You--"

"No, you don't understand. It's not a superpower. It's a curse." Her face closed off quickly. Arms crossed over the photo.

"Now, I…I do get it. Shit like that is not a gift, it's a burden. What I was gonna say was, you make do with them. Some people can even help. I think with your perfect recall you could help."

"No--no. Sorry. No. I--I… it's more than that. It's… I can't. The real world is… over stimulating. I can't. I can't operate, I get lost in the memories. People find me… disconcerting."

"So… you're scared. Not incapable."

She balked at Jess' response. "I--I--I. No. I can't. I need the… the treatments. They have research. I'm needed for the… for the tests daily. If they can find out about my condition from me, they can help others like me in the future."

"Yeah. But what about you?" Jess caught herself. "You know what? I'm sorry. It's none of my business. I'm sure if you weren't happy here, you'd leave." She stood, gathered her pen and notebook. "Thanks for talking to me Ms…."

"Bisho. Tessa Bisho. Where are you going?" She stood, knocking over her chair.

"Getting out of your hair."

"You--you don't have to leave." Her voice was small. Eyes on the floor. "I'm a researcher by trade. I have access to some good databases. I bet I could help you. … If you want." She got even quieter. "I also remember password algorithms pretty well. Been known to… uh… get into other places less accessible to the public…"

Jess chuckled. "Oh yeah? I bet you get into all kinds of troubled locked away up here in your Rapunzel tower."

"I get out and about."

"Outside the hospital?"

"Oh. No. Not… not in fifteen years."

"Christ, chica. You need a life."

"I've heard that one before. Here. This is the patient database. The day after was… here. And his name was Johnny…" She scanned through the pages incredibly quickly. "Narrowing the search by insulin treatments… there. John Taub. Brought in with Tracy Taub. Released with a prescription to be filled in… wow in Jersey."

"Trenton… Trenton. Why do I know that?… Oh… Apogee. It's a… a recruitment camp for enhanced kids, or it was. Really more a registration program."

"Yeah. I know." Tessa cleared her throat. "Could be the camp the bio mom mentioned."

"That… that would actually fit. Either way I have the aliases they were using. Good for tracking." Jess leaned back, grinning as she jotted some things down. "Well, thanks, lady. You sure are useful. I'm telling you, a buncha people could benefit from your… uh, skills. You sure you don't want to come out into the real world. I could let you intern at my agency. Let you dip your toes in the pool first. Before pushing you in when you're not looking."

"Ha. Ha, ha. Yeah… I uh… no." Tessa had a nervous tremor to her laugh.

"Okay. Explain it to me. Pretend I'm not a complete stranger with her nose where it doesn't belong. Pretend I'm an ignorant best friend. Why can't you live out there in the great big world?"

The girl's face warmed slightly as she grinned at Jess' teasing tone. She responded to her toes. "Well… if that were true you wouldn't need to ask. You would already know. I'm what… I'm what you might call socially impaired."

"Nah. You're doing just fine right here with me."

"That's because you don't treat me like a wolf-child. I've been treated like a freak of nature for so long that I just shut down when people start in on the kid gloves routine. They just can't believe that I've been socialized and can navigate our culture."

"Well, judging by the amount of media you consume and your absolute retention ability, I would have expected you to be pretty well-versed in being human. I mean, besides the contributing factor of being a human your whole life."

"My whole life, yes. Just…"

"Not treated like one? Yeah, not to be insensitive, which I keep feeling compelled to say, but uh… this set up? Reminds me of a giant terrarium. Are you a big, hairless guinea pig?"

Tessa's face shivered a little. "No. But… it's for a reason, like I said before--"

"Yeah, yeah. You need the treatments. You're a medical martyr." Jess waved that off and stood up. "I'm coming back here once I'm through with this case and you're going to have a day out there, outside the big cage."

"It--it's more than those things. I have a real… uh, social disability. My… one of the treatments I received to help… the side effects of my condition… it created another… side effect."

Jessica's hip swung out to the side, her fist resting on it. "Hit me with it, sis. Can't be that bad."

"I…" Her face warmed all the way to a full blush. "I have… inhibition issues."

"What? Like Tourette's?"

"No… not like that. I don't have a… tic. It's more like … more like … okay, here: more like out of the blue I have the self-control of a person with a blood alcohol content over .08. It's called disinhibition. I… uh… I can become a little… well, uninhibited. I run my mouth about shit I shouldn't, no filter. And, uh, other instinctual responses just… happen. It makes for some intense embarrassment to dwell on and remember forever." She looked like she was doing just that. Shook her head hard and sunk down lower into her chair. "Forever and ever. Getting stronger and stronger with age… like wine."

Even with her face covered, it was clear Tessa was drowning in some regret or other. Jess, deciding she really liked this girl, patted her shoulder. "Don't worry 'bout it, sis. Everybody does stupid shit and most don't have an excuse like yours. You live and learn, you know? Eventually, you put your foot in your mouth, or your ass in a window, enough and each individual time starts not to seem so bad. In the grand scheme of things, that is."

"It's… it's just scary, you know?" Her voice cracked and her face hid behind hair and hands again.

Jessica laughed. Out loud, deep from her belly. "Yeah, sis, I know. Scary as hell, just like all of life. Putting yourself out there is just one of those things. But, trust me, you do it around the right people and, when you inevitably fuck up, it isn't life-shattering. Just… just think about it, Tess."

Man, Jessica could sure put on an inspirational speech. If only now she could follow her own advice. And find those right people she mentioned before. Resisting the urge to sigh, she patted Tessa's shoulder again and stood slowly.

"You've got a few weeks to do just that while I wrap this case up and then I'm coming to call. You game for that, chica? You can live off campus, sounds like. Wanna give it a go for a day or two?"

"I'll--I'll think about it." She smiled nervously, the blush fading a bit. "In either case, I'm happy to help you with this kind of thing. Any time." She seemed happy to have company, really. But it also could've been she enjoyed the idea of her problem being useful for others.

Walking out of the front door, a thought plagued Jessica. It occurred to her that something could happen to this girl, left alone in a place like that. Someone opportunistic could happen upon her, or worse, she could do something to herself, her esteem as fragile as it seemed. She was clearly special, an enhanced person being treated like a lab rat, and that rubbed Jessica the wrong way. If anything, it was, like, her responsibility, failed superhero or not, to help others.

Time to cash her one ex-superhero card.

 It was raining outside again, her hair plastered to her forehead faster than she could dial the number. Hopefully, the call would go through and her hair wouldn't fly into her mouth again.

"Romanoff."

"Uh, hi. This is Jessica Jones. Sorry it's so late. We met once. My hair was purple. I kind of… flew… you said I could call if I needed something."

"Jones. I remember. How can I help?"

"I'm on a job, tracking an enhanced. Kidnapped her son from his adoptive parents… anyways, I can't take care of this myself, but there's someone I think you and what's left of your crew should look into. She's special and vulnerable… and… well kind of got a shit ton of potential to help. I think."

"I'm listening. Give me the rundown and I'll get on it."

Her breath steamed in the rain. A sigh of relief. "Great. Her name's Dr. Theresa Bisho and she can't forget a single thing."


	2. Eyes on Target

"… and remember that she's emotionally and psychologically vulnerable. You've read my recon." Those fingers snapped so hard in front of his nose he could feel the reverberation in his teeth.  "You've read my recon, right?"

 "Yes, Nat. Recon read. And I was paying attention. Got all that."

 "Good." Her mouth softened and she patted his shoulder. "I'm not always sure now…"

 "We've got it, Nat. I've got this. She's fragile, and who can blame her? Human lab rat and all. And, yeah, I got the part about no judgment. God knows, I get that." He rubbed a hand over his neck, resisted the urge to tug at his ears. "She won't even see me flinch."

 "Alright. Good. From what Jones dug up, this one is a one in a billion. Her condition, hyperthymesia, makes her… well indelicately, an incredible potential intelligence asset. The fact that she's been the subject of multiple genetic and morally hazy experiments makes her a responsibility of those of us who can help. Stark's got attorneys lined up in case we get in trouble, but the books say it's at her discretion, so this is a persuasion operation." She was unfastening and fastening all her straps and buckles. Natasha was antsy. Invested in this mission, low risk as it was.

 "You can do persuasion, Barton, can't you?"

 "Oh, yeah. I'm suave as… as suave. Yeah. This is gonna go well." He hung his head in defeat.

 Natasha chuckled. "She might actually find you endearing, Clint. Come on, this is going to be interesting."

 "Oh, yeah, sure. Convincing a reclusive, asocial, genius, who also happens to be a victim of psychological manipulation and abuse to come work for an underground intelligence agency slash superhero firm as their overblown secretary slash external hard drive. Interesting is definitely the word for it. And how are we going to do this without making it seem like she's going from one opportunistic parasite system to another? I mean, how different is it, test subject to asset? We're just going to take advantage of her… enhancement like the doctors have been."

 "No, we're putting her to work doing good, instead of poking and prodding at her to learn something. Plus, she'll have independence and free range with us, unlike the social restrictions at the hospital. But I think we'll have her sold with the helping people bit. She seems altruistic by nature. She's a teacher, after all."

 Clint fiddled his fingers, feeling naked completely unarmed. "My teachers never liked me."

 "They never got to see you all grown up."

 "No one has. I'm saving that big reveal for the right audience…"

 Natasha scoffed, "well, put on the finishing touches, I think you've got your venue."

 24 hours earlier:

 "Do you think I should replace the toilet paper I've been taking from the Tower, Nat?" He turned the corner, found her not in her chair, her beer sweating, hardly touched. "Natasha?"

She was out on the terrace. There was a lot to be done. "Yes, thank you, Jones. I have something in mind."

 "You know your beer's getting warm in here?" The bruise over Clint's cheekbone was finally getting a little less yellow and purple. It was still extremely shiny in the deck light's glow. "What's going on? You've got your work face on."

 "Work came up," she answered simply. Her phone bleeped quietly as her fingers moved over it. "I think I have an errand for us to run. I want to chew on a second opinion first, though."

 He leaned against the doorframe, not even trying to hold in the sigh. "I thought he was on personal time, earned it after sacrificing his leads for Tony's fuck up."

 "He is, that's why I'm only calling for his input." She spun a pen around her fingers as she waited for the other line to pick up. "Hey, Steve… got a moment?"

 Clint shrugged and trudged back inside, returning with a fold up chair and both of their beers. He shoved hers into Nat's hand and then flopped into the chair. It creaked, but he didn't notice. 

 "Thanks, just a bit of a rescue mission … no, no, I know you're busy. I'm doing this one with Barton. I just don't know if my idea for a sanctuary for her is viable… considering things… Oh, yeah, that's what I was thinking… no, I'm worried about that, too … a dark place, if we let him, so I'll have someone with her at least 92% of the time. … Yes, I'm sure. I have some people in mind. … I think so. … Okay, thanks, Steve. Good luck on your end."

 She set her phone on the railing and rubbed her shoulder pensively. Clint decided to let her mull on her own. That only lasted for a minute and a half, though.

 "So, what did you just volunteer me for?"

 Natasha's mouth held a lot of worries when she turned back to him. "I'll let you know when I figure that part out. All I know is that we can't leave this woman in her current situation. Not ethically."

 Now:

"Are we sure about bringing her to Stark?" The question was an empty one. Natasha never began anything she wasn't sure about finishing. Not anymore. Clint asked it more to be reassured himself.

 She looked over her shoulder at him, lips pursed.

 "Yeah, you're right. I'm second guessing, sorry. Just nervous."

 A little smirk replaced her reproach. "Well, to assuage your frazzled nerves, I have a plan so as not to let him get his claws into her. Not in a toxic way. He means well… just needs adult supervision, especially with a gifted asset like this one. As soon as we find Banner, Stark'll be held to some degree of accountability, but to make sure he doesn't spread his bad influence beyond his own personal habits, we're specifically requesting Dr. Cho to advise on this case. She'll keep them both in line. Easily."

 Clint breathed a sigh of relief. "Yes. Yes, she will."

 "And, of course, we'll be around. Because, let's face it, she'll want us around. We're going to make a good impression." She reached over, removed his glasses and slid them into his pocket. "We'll be her first impression, too. Eye contact, smiles, light conversation topics. Got it?"

 She stopped a yard outside of the shining glass doors. The custodians were inside, cleaning. It smelled like ammonia and pine sol, tasted like illness.

 "Yeah… got it. Got it good. … Are you sure you want me on this? You do remember who I am, right?" Clint had that feeling he got before he pressed the 'universe, shit on my head, please' button and did something epic-fail style. He considered it his garbage-sense. It was tingling hard. He lost the ongoing battle with himself and tugged at his ear.

 "Relax, Clint. You're overthinking things again. And don't tell me your garbage-sense is tingling." Natasha took a step forward, turned and waited for him to follow. He didn't. "Stop fiddling with your hearing aid and come on."

 "Okay… but this feels like it's gonna go bad."

 "Badly. And that is your garbage-sense tingling, nice side step. Relax. It won't go badly. Just be yourself. A normal human being."

 Even dressed down in their civvies, the two of them must have screamed intelligence agents. The staff became very soft-spoken, tight-lipped when they caught sight of Nat and Clint. There were guarded conversations, following eyes all around them. It became immediately apparent that they were needed in this place, because it was sketchy as fuck.

 Nat played it off well, like always, though. She was all smiles and casual questions. Twenty minutes later they were heading for the Jenkins Memorial Chronic Condition and Disease Research Wing with begrudgingly administered visitors badges and a room number that didn't match Nat's intel.

 "How much you wanna bet they gave you the wrong room on purpose?"

 She grinned under her lids up at Clint. "I don't. What did you see?"

 "Computer said 2727, like your tip told you. And it was right there, clear as day."

 "Just one more reason to get her out of this place."

 As they booked it down the hall one gear below a run, Nat grabbed a few things off nearby carts: an empty syringe, a few rubber bands, some tongue depressors. Just enough stuff for Clint to jimmy a makeshift finger gun. He had it ready and stashed before they hit the elevator.

 "Don't let her see it, if you have to use it."

 "She won't. That I am sure of."

 The room 2727 was squirreled away down a long hall in an inconsequential alcove, just like they wanted everyone to forget it was even there. On its doormat, Nat paused one more time, straightened her clothes and smoothed her hair. She also tucked Clint's aid back in place and fixed his collar. A flash of light from her phone being silenced and she rapt softly three times on the door.

 "Just a minute!"

 Clint had learned better than to expect things, especially around Nat. All the same, the woman who answered the door was just plain beyond anything he had, or hadn't, expected. She was not the ill-kempt victim that Nat's source had made her out to be. Granted, her hair was something of a modern art piece, sad and wilted but energetic in its messiness, but she had real clothing on and her expression was nothing vulnerable. Her jeans and paisley patterned scrubs shirt read hospital worker, not shut-in lab rat. Her warm smile said content, felt nurturing. The chalk all over and pencil behind her ear hinted to teacher. All fairly normal, unlike her rap sheet. It was just her reaction that fit the bill of 'eccentric, socially'.

 "Your nurse didn't call up for you," she had been saying as she opened the door. "You're gonna be in-- crotches!" She said, directly to their pelvises. "Oh, god, shit! You're not a student--uh, not a child, at least, neither of you!" Her line of sight finally flickered upwards, then. Brought with it a blooming flush. "Oh, hi, faces. Better. Not that your crotches aren't--uh, you have very nice crotches! Fuck, this is going down the shitter really quickly!"

 Natasha quirked her head to the side, but otherwise didn't react as the woman spun around on the spot and left her back to them. Clint tugged on his ear again.

 Recomposed a touch, the woman turned back around and backed into her bed, flopped into a sit. Then, shrugged. This all happened in under five seconds.

"Huh, ha." It was a nervous laugh that she opened with next. "Well, as you are fully aware, I'm making a complete fool of myself already… so, I'm thinking, might as well go whole hog." She popped to her feet again. "Can… can I have your autographs?" She proceeded to find a pen and paper without waiting for an affirmative answer from them. "You're… you're… you're…"

 When she couldn't get the word out, Clint took a breath, about to offer something. Natasha's hand on his stopped him. He leaned over to her ear and whispered instead, "she knows who I am?"

 Nat's response was typical: a shrug and a cryptic grin. Meanwhile, their possible asset continued whirling around the room upsetting what had been a fastidiously tidy space.

"Alch! Well, needless to say, I admire you both. Like, a crazy amount. You two in particular. Favorites. No big show. No asking for thanks. No publicity. You just help and disappear back among us sheep. I appreciate that. And you're both sexy as hell. Excellent crotches. And faces. And overall… good job with that." She waved her hand vaguely over their torsos, then seemed to snapped back to attention. "Shit!"

 Holding out the pen and paper with one hand, she clapped the other over her mouth. Without the paper to hide behind, she sunk into her shoulders in a distinctly turtle like fashion. Natasha signed her name without pause, cool as a cucumber. Clint had to fight not to let his eyes bulge. Tasha finally got a word in while Clint signed, in shock, and their host shuddered at herself.

 "Well, Dr. Bisho, it's a good thing we're the two to come find you today. Better for us to win you over, then, yes?"

 "Tessa, please," she responded immediately, and then chuckled nervously. "Yeah, well… yeah. Of the people to come get me you're the ideal two--wait. Come get me? Me?"

 Natasha nodded, pointing to the bed beside Tessa with raised eyebrow.

 "Oh, shit, yes! Sure, please, sit. If you want. Yeah, sit… so, you're … here to … arrest me? I did access the server one time, but it was by accident because Soph--"

 "We're not here to arrest you," Natasha chuckled, patting Tessa on the shoulder. The girl's demeanor immediately went rigid and then unwound. "We're here to recruit you."

 She looked at Clint, her eyes wary. "Recruit me? I don't mean to second guess you two, because I know you know your stuff, but… I'm a nobody."

 "No such thing." Natasha brought her game today. Brought it hard. Clint sat back and prepared to watch the show. Because, Tessa sure wasn't looking at him anymore.

 "But… uh, even so… your team is deployed for significantly… larger… targets. Right?"

 "The team? Yes, but we're here more on behalf of our… community at large. And for your benefit."

 "When we learned about you, it occurred to us the two potentially would be connected," Clint chimed in, to which Nat nodded.

  "Exactly. Your situation here appeared less than ideal upon further inspection. And considering your interests and unique skill set, your potential seemed squandered."

 Tessa's face dropped. "Squandered?"

 The room suddenly felt tense. Apparently, the potential for Stockholm syndrome had been underestimated in this case. Natasha was not fazed, however. She merely switched gears, began carefully teasing out Tessa's opinion to better appeal to it.

 "From our vantage point, yes. How do you feel about living here as you do?"

 "Uh…" Eyes dropped, fingers began fidgeting. "Well, I mean, I'm needed here. The study… I'm the only one with my particular manifestation--f--for others in the future… suffering like me… I--I--I'm helping them by…"

 "By what, Tessa?" Nat blinked, as if she honestly had no idea that Tessa had been the victim of dozens of ethically and morally dubious and experimental procedures that could easily have been mistaken as Nazi medical-torture.

 "By weeding out the treatments that don't work." Her voice shook as she answered.

 "That sounds dangerously like being a lab rat, Tessa."

 She studied the hand on her knee, chewed her lip. "I… I guess I could see how someone would think that, but… it's not arbitrary… not like it has no restrictions. I'm st--still healthy. It's helping me."

 Natasha's eyes flashed to Clint's. He shrugged his lip, no input coming to him on this. He had no idea how slice and poke surgeries with essentially blind direction could seem not arbitrary.

 "That's excellent news, that the science has already progressed by your martyrdom-- well, volunteering as test subject. What have they uncovered?"

 "It's pretty complicated." Tessa pulled at a thread on the hem of her scrub shirt. "From my perspective they've advanced in the attention deficit complications. I focus much better now, get lost in the memories less."

 "Wow. That must be a relief. I bet you feel more comfortable in public now."

 Tessa looked up quickly, then went right back to staring at her knees. "Well… about that… yeah…"

 Natasha quirked her head to the side. "Other complications not so livable?"

 "They… complicate things. Yes."

 "I read about the inhibition lapses. We have our own doctors, Tessa. They may have a different perspective on your condition and its complications. They may find something those here haven't."

 "The doctors here are the leaders in their field. That's why I'm here."

 Natasha withdrew her hand as Tessa edged away. Defensive. They were getting close to the pressure point.

 "That very well may be so. Nonetheless, others may be more qualified to help you." She hesitated as Tessa considered her from the corner of her eye. "Others may have your interests more in mind than the research physicians here."

 "Wh--what are you implying?"

 Natasha sighed deeply as she stood, walked calmly to the door and retrieved the enormous monstrosity that was Tessa's chart before returning to the bed. "This is your medical history, correct? A catalogue of all your condition's symptoms and treatments."

 Tessa nodded but narrowed her eyes. "That's me in a nutshell."

 "Hardly," Natasha scoffed and Tessa's mouth dropped open a sliver. "A person is so much more than their body… but even so… this? This is not everything there is to your condition."

 "Of course it is."

 Natasha shook her head, her mouth pulling downwards. "No, Tessa. I'm sorry, it isn't. Clint?"

 He dug in the bag, pulled out the tablet requested.

 "You believe the doctors are operating on an altruistic--or as altruistic as a commercialized service industry can be-- basis. You are under the impression that their interests align with yours, that they intend to make your life as undefined by your condition as you would want. I'm afraid they've deceived you."

 Tessa's eyes widened, mouth dropped further, as she peered at the screen in Natasha's hands. "All this… this--I've never seen this."

 "As you can see by the headers, it belongs in your chart. It has been removed at your doctors' behest because it does not fit with the illusion they're feeding you and the results they desire."

 "They--they can't just… there are rules… restrictions… this is… this is malpractice. This is illegal!"

 Natasha took back the tablet, folded her hands over it with all solemnity. "That was our reaction exactly."

 "So--so… so I report them and they pay the fines and right this. I still can't just up and leave. The Erstheim study is based here and I--"

 "There is no Erstheim study. It's not in your file, Tessa."

 "No, no, there wouldn't be. It's a double blind."

 "It doesn't exist, Tessa. There is no official paperwork for any such study, no funding, no advisory board. It's just another way that these doctors are exploiting you and your situation to their own advantage. These are the findings from this so-called study." She handed over the tablet, notes now pulled up. The ones that had made Clint's hair stand on end.

 Tessa read them with increasing incense. "I… I didn't need--" Her voice broke as she reached for the side of her head. She wiped at her eyes before continuing. "How much of this was unnecessary… the exploratory surgery and--and all that?"

 Natasha looked like she nearly had tears in her eyes as Tessa searched her face. "Too much."

 "How--how could they do this? In good conscience? They scarred me permanently and unnecessarily! I was--my youth was fraught with-- they ruined--" She sucked in her lips and turned away. "I'm broken because they refused to fix me in preference for playing Frankenstein with my brain. This… the beta wave treatments could have worked… if they… hadn't partially lobotomized me," she whispered the last part, but no one had any problem hearing her, not even Clint.

 Natasha's hand returned, around Tessa's shoulders and stilling her shaking. She carefully took back the tablet and replaced it with her other hand. "People do horrible things for despicable reasons sometimes. I can guarantee, if you let us take you away from here, that won't happen to you with us around."

 Tessa was crying, a soft, silent weeping that moved her body and stopped her from speaking. When she was composed enough to respond, her voice was thick, her eyes glassy and red. Her lips trembled as she tried to smile.

 "This is where I belong. This place… it needs me. Th--the children need me. No one else… someone has to be better than this place."

 Clint took the tablet, scooted his chair forward. "There's no reason you can't live your life the way you want without living here."

 "That's true. What we'll ask from you won't define how you go about being you. In fact, we'll work so that it's as natural as it can be, your new life. Our doctors and scientists' priorities will be to make you as unimpaired by your condition as possible so you can be a contributing member of our personnel and of society, to your liking." Natasha had found a box of tissues, handed one over and kept the rest on her lap.

 The tissue remained unused in Tessa's hand. She was fixated on Natasha, eyes locked. "Contribute how?"

 Nat smiled, brushing off the sharp tone of caution in the question. "Easily, simply." She nodded to the television across the room. "I assume you watch that thing in the corner, that you've seen what's happened to this nation's intelligence community of late."

 "I saw the collapse of SHIELD on the news, the helicarrier in the Potomac… you, on Capitol Hill. Worse things than that elsewhere…"

 "Exactly. And you probably experienced the yet unexplained virus that infiltrated the internet and worldwide servers for a time…" She waited until Tessa nodded, a quick tight motion. "Right, then you can see how technology, the safe, warm blanket we've used to comfort and keep ourselves, it isn't reliable anymore. And it certainly isn't the safest place for information anymore, never really was. It's intrinsically vulnerable to infiltration because it is universally accessible, in theory."

 The two had turned, were now basically knee to knee facing each other. Nat had her drawn in good and proper.

 "But… but, that reliance upon it, it's quotidian nature provides a sort of loophole. If we don't stack all our secrets in the tech, only some good baits, then these left where the world assumes they will be, they'll be taken and the others stored elsewhere will be spared. And people have stopped looking for that elsewhere. We're too lazy, too dependent upon computers to make hardcopies, to remember. Technology is a crutch and we're looking to walk on our own two feet, even if one is a prosthetic."

 Tessa took a breath, let her eyes skim over Natasha, gears turning behind them. "And I'm the prosthetic?"

  "Yes, a secret, an asset. You're… not to oversimplify you, you're a living, breathing external hard drive whom no one can hijack. Hell, one no one can ever find, would never look to find. You're the perfect intelligence asset. You're exactly what we need right now to help the world, Tessa."

 Natasha took that moment to lay her hand on Tessa's arm. She got that little quirk to her lips that crept up when she had the silk all spun. Sure enough, Tessa's mouth dropped open a little and Clint could see it. She had her won over, maybe a little more than they needed.

"And, don't worry, you'll be safe. Only a few people will know that you exist as more than a desk jockey at our little agency. Your codename will be kept secret, copied by a dummy piece of tech, and all you'll have to do is watch and listen and remember with discretion. You'll always have a handler, so you know the job is legitimate, and they'll keep you safe. They'll forget little details, but you won't. And, of course, you'll keep the minutes at certain debriefings."

 Clint choked back a chuckle as Nat literally batted her eyes at the oversimplification of that statement.

 "The only thing that we'll require from you with certainty, absolutely, will be a nondisclosure agreement. You'll understand the necessity for keeping your memories to yourself, yes?"

 Tessa hesitated, looked back at her knees. Clint took the opportunity to step in, maybe not fuck things up. Went upfront, knowing he couldn't charm like Nat.

 "We'll explain our rationale beforehand, make it clear. You'll be free to bow out of involvement if the ethics don't sit right with you."

 She studied him, more clear eyed than before. More focused. Their proposal had her undivided attention. After pretty obviously sizing him up but coming away happy with what she saw, a smile was flashed Natasha's way, a little one with a nod.

 "Al--alright… I guess, if I'd be more help out there, less… of a waste of… you know, space, then, yeah. I'll be your asset. Part time, though, because… I really am dedicated to the kids here… they… they… it's part of who I am."

 "Yes," Nat smiled, a warm one she usually reserved for Clint or Steve. She smoothed Tessa's sleeve, gave her shoulder a little squeeze. "Of course, we'll have a car for you and everything. It is, after all, your life, your choice."

 "I like that," she sighed quietly. "'My choice…"

 Clint spotted a bag, passed it over to her. It was time to wind this up. They'd spent too much time in there already. "Your rules, too. So, anything you want to bring from this place?" He grabbed the frame he'd noticed, the one thing that stuck out as personal, offered it to her.

 She smiled sadly. "Nothing that'll fill that bag… but… am I allowed to leave?" Again, she seemed to shrink into herself, a turtle into her shell.

 Clint set the frame into her hands. "Like we said, your life, your choice, your rules… nothin' they can do to stop you. You're technically only here by your own volition, technically… we know that wasn't true… originally…"

 "But it is now," Nat felt him sinking, tagged in. "So, what do you think?" That little purse-lipped grin and she had her convinced again.

 "Uh… uh, sure. Yes. Won't even take a minute."

She was hardly kidding. A few short moments later and they were skittering down the hall, Tessa lagging.

 "Oh… Hank… Jen… Isaac… Oh, I'm leaving… I should… I should…" She came to a dead stop, searching for her words. "I should have put some real shoes on… and tell my kids… and Sophie… no one… no one else will even notice." She pressed her hair down over her ears, chewed a lip.

 Natasha took the shoes Clint had fished from the bag and collected her, kept her walking with them. "Not many people ever will notice, but you know that, that's not what matters, not what you're invested in, right? You want change. You want to help. Most of the time that, the real difference, is made behind the scenes."

A smile, a big one. She had a lively smile, one that made her eyes disappear and her face light up. She must have done well with those kids using it.

"I like that… working behind the scenes. I, uh, don't do well in front of people, anyways, if you can't tell."

Nat chuckled. "Neither does Clint, and he gets along just fine. You're in good company."

"Yup," he grinned when she looked his way for assurance. "Now, ready to make a slightly bigger difference that no one will ever thank you for?"

She laughed and then her eyes danced away, back to Natasha. "Behind the scenes, with you two?" She waited until they both nodded. "Then, yeah…" she laughed, to herself it seemed, as they waited in the elevator. "Get me out of this rat's maze."

"Something funny? I like jokes, could use a good joke… that isn't my life for once."

She responded well to his little comment, didn't seem to notice the nurses staring as they passed. "It's a… story for another time… one that I'm glad this is proving so, so very wrong. Behind the scenes, but out in the world…"


	3. Behind the Scenes

"So, what about on Father's Day, 1996?"

Clint could feel Tessa's eyes rolling even from across the room. "Stark, we talked about this. She isn't a walking party trick."

"No, Widow talked at me. I was not allowed to get a word in edgewise--"

"Somehow, I don't believe that…"

"--and you definitely were not there. That tiny, personal raincloud of yours I would have noticed. So, Tess, my fleshy little hard drive, how much exactly do you remember? Is it perfect? You know what color socks you were wearing seven years ago yesterday?" Stark talked to Tessa while reading through her chart, flipping through it and her EEG readings on his display.

"I remember that _eight_ years ago yesterday, you went on national television at eight forty-two in the evening and announced that any slander anyone heard about your ability to perform was a spiteful projection of the slanderer's guilt for stealing three priceless Swiss watches from your room. Then, you proceeded to prove it was slander by achieving an erection before the feed was cut off."

Stark's display froze, his hand dropped with his face. Clint caught a tiny smile from Tessa and barked out a laugh. But, one cleared throat later, Tony was back on his game, snarky as before.

"Well, yeah, okay. Color me impressed, that is one hell of a party trick. And that was after a whole bottle of seventy-five year old scotch, so… not something to just poopoo as an incredibly asinine penis-centric tantrum. I mean, I was no eighteen year old either, so… pretty great party trick in its own right. Anyway, your brain's a masterpiece. Banner would love to see this… Cho will be ecstatic. Also, we're pretty awesome, so, this skitsy space right here? We'll fix that. I know how to rewire a short."

Tessa considered closely the holographic projection of her brain. Clint could see her fighting for her words. "That's the part they cut out, I--"

"Yeah, I know, Unforgettable. I can still fix that. Organics don't slow this train down… not with Cho around. I'll write the code, she'll make the goo. Bing, bang, boom, good as new!"

"That's.…impossible…"

Stark grinned. "I love proving people wrong. Go ahead, tell me something else I can't do. Dare ya."

Out of left field, there was rage in Tessa's face. Her lips curled back in a snarl and, if she hadn't been tangled in wires, she might have decked Stark in the mouth.

"If you can really do all this shit, all this impossible ultra-human shit, why the fuck haven't you fixed some of the problems that are possible to solve?! You have the money, you say you can! Why don't you? Why do I get to be the lucky freak that you wave your fairy wand over? How is that fair?"

Clint dropped the prototype photon-pulse arrow head Stark had been fabricating for him, edged over to watch his face. These questions had bounced around their little elite task force without ever being answered. How did Stark decide to deign to provide assistance with his godlike powers and resources? It was a mystery.

"Whoa. Mood swing. Write that down, FRIDAY. And, in response to the logical backbone of your outburst… I have a foundation to help the people, while we focus on the world-ending problems."

"Dying people have a hard time appreciating that bigger picture, Mr. Stark," Tessa mumbled as she pulled off her wires and pads. "Thank you for your sponsorship and personal interest in the treatment of my condition, but I think I'll go rest in my room now."

"Hey, Robin Hood, you know what glitched in our organi-tech friend just then?" He asked Clint as the little slaps of Tessa's foot falls ebbed.

Clint shrugged. "She just really doesn't like you, Stark. What can I say? Unfortunately, all your flash and awe doesn't do it for her. Maybe she can still see the strings?"

"Uh… you're not smart enough to have that kind of insight… Intruder! Alert! Intruder! Invasion of the body snatchers! FRIDAY, report that Barton has been replaced and poorly. IQ way too high, ethical clarity too unblemished…"

Clint took out his hearing aid as he left. He didn't need that shit. Besides, he was the only one allowed to verbally abuse him and his mental capacity. With his ploy successful, Tony dropped the façade and began typing, dictating as he did.

"FRIDAY, open another branch of the Foundation. Double its allotment but make it low key. Just… just call it "Bigger Picture" and start hiring MDs, new kids straight out of exams. I want them young and I want them innovative. Make a research team and a practicing team. Have 'em fix things. You heard Tess, let's take care of the possible first."

"Yes, sir. Of course. And Dr. Bisho's treatment?"

"Send the charts and specs to Cho. Put my half into beta testing."

"Done. … Sir, what would you like me to do with the file you've just manually created?"

He swiped away the keyboard, threw back the rest of his smoothie. "Add it to the Mnemosyne folder, keep that between you and me. Set it in the simulator and let her run. Let's see just how impossible it is."

Four floors away, Clint was riding the elevator to no floor in particular, strangely comfortable in the silence. That was something Stark did to you sometimes, made you appreciate your own issues. Clint sighed and put his aid back in. The elevator was still strangely silent. Stark tech. A growing dilemma in all its magical convenience. The world knew that now.

He wondered what Tessa knew. Last he and Nat had spoken to her, Tessa had been tired. That was all she would say. They knew from the start that she didn't like Stark even before she met him. She just had a hunch making her cautious around him. Now, no doubt she strongly disliked him. And who could blame her? Besides his ethical blurred lines when it came to 'improving' things, Tessa had just endured a whole week of tests which, while noninvasive technically, came with nonstop Stark snark. That was an ordeal in itself, and Stark's approach to everything, with ever present tech and a manipulating barrage of monkey chatter, was invasive in a way nothing else could be. Predictably, Tessa had retreated into herself. She had basically been a recluse just a week before, for god's sake. For being a genius, Tony sure was dumb as dirt a lot of the time.

Clint hesitated outside of her door. He wanted to make sure she was okay, but maybe the lack of privacy was the bigger problem. His phone buzzed as he was waffling. It was Nat. He stepped down the hall to answer, just in case Tessa didn't have her headphones on.

"You on the way back?"

"I'm twenty minutes out. How is she today?"

Clint shrugged, not sure how to answer. "You know… she had a two hour with Tony today."

"Shit. And he was himself."

"Uh, yeah."

Natasha clicked her tongue on the other end of the line. "Did she get to the hospital yesterday?"

"Yes," he sighed. At least there was that good news. "She went for about four hours. That was the happiest she's been since you left. Maybe be careful with that, Nat…"

"Okay. You're off, then. I'll take her this weekend. She in her room?" She completely ignored his last comment.

"Yeah, I was just about to go and--"

"Leave her be for now. I'll take care of things. Go home. Feed your dog. Make sure Bishop's still alive."

Clint scoffed but headed for the elevator anyway. "I couldn't get rid of Kate that easily. Please. But, uh, thanks, Nat."

"No problem. I better not see you until Monday."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, but the line was already dead.

He shook his head and took his aid out again. If he was going to have a weekend, it was going to be a real one. She'd sounded pretty level, not that she wasn't ever. He wondered how the search went; that would have to wait until Monday, though. He was going to drink a case of beer and then sleep for forty hours straight.

Twenty nine floors above, a tiny beep disturbed the perfect rhythm of Colin Burgess's snare. Tony looked up from the vellum book he had to read with latex gloves and a magnifying glass.

"What, FRIDAY? I told you, leave me alone."

"Ms. Romanova's quinjet is inbound, sir."

He sighed and shut off the translator's readout. "Okay, fine. Put Thor's bedtime book away. I don't need to see the bad side of him again anytime soon. Oh, and contact the search party, tell them radio silence until I say otherwise."

"Yes, sir."

Tony pulled up some other files, flicked them around the room, and turned up his music.

"The tome is stored, sir. Contact confirmed."

"Good, ring her up." He snapped out a beat as the dial tone rang against his music.

"Romanoff."

"Hi, honey. You didn't call and tell me you were coming home tonight."

"You had my flight plan, Tony. Playing dumb doesn't flatter you."

"Okay, so I was bored. You caught me." He grinned at the venom in her voice, spun around his tablette, turning up the volume even more. "You bring me a souvenir?"

"No. No luck today."

Tony sighed. "Damn. Well, what're you here for, then?"

"You know why. What did you do to her today?"

He gasped. "I would never! I am offended that you would--"

"You've got twenty seconds before I find out on my own. You want your story or the full one on my mind when I see you next?"

The music flipped off. Fun was over. "Finished the standards. Cho and I can fix this. Easy."

"And that's all?"

"All that I can tell you in twenty seconds. If you want to hear about the bio software applications--"

"Write it up. I'll read it tomorrow over breakfast."

Tony couldn't help but smile. No one could play Natasha but Natasha. "It'll be in your room tonight. I'll use small words."

"Very funny, Stark. If you don't tell me, though, I will find out. Whatever it is that has your voice so tight." She hesitated, the room dead quiet, and Tony felt the urge to turn and make sure the book was actually hidden. "I'm only warning you because I do believe in second chances."

He cleared his throat as the line went dead. "Uh… FRIDAY? Recycle the clearances. Issue Natasha a new everything as she comes in. And, uh, quadruple the firewalls on Mnemosyne."

"Should I clear the radio silence, sir?"

"No. Recall them, but put them in Upstate."

"Yes, sir."

Natasha strolled in two minutes later as he was fiddling with an electro-chemical converter prototype. She took one invisible survey of the room and then leaned against his work desk. "Where're the kids?"

"Where's daddy?" He asked right back.

"Not my business," she replied with a shrug. "Pepper in?"

"Busy."

"Hmm, so you've been unsupervised."

Tony leaned back, grinned. "Don't worry, I didn't burn the house down. Your biffle was here, tossing buckets on the flames. He needs an upgrade on that floppy disc in his ear, but he won't let me near it."

"I wonder why." She sounded anything but uncertain.

"What? I had his best interests in mind. Everyone's best interests."

"He may act like it sometimes, but he's not a shelter pet. You can't tag him with a microchip and expect he'll be okay with it."

Tony noticed her eyes searching where what was missing had just been. So, he made more noise, threw his hands in the air and went full drama. "What's a guy got to do to be appreciated for his altruism!?! I wasn't spying on him, which you should know, I was tracking his vitals and recording the glitches from his hearing impairment. It was so I could fix it better!"

"Tell yourself what you will, Stark. You're the one who has to live with it." Natasha crossed her arms, but had stopped peering around. She kicked off his desk and looked back over her shoulder. "Don't try that with Tessa, though. She deserves it less than Clint and she'll react less predictably. Understand?"

"I won't install anything in her that she doesn't sign off on."

"And stop using computer terminology in reference to her. She's not an android. Speaking of, when you do talk to them next, ask them what they were doing in Cyprus." She added with a pursed smile, "I'm sure you're curious to know why they were there as well."

He whistled. "Cyprus, you say? That's weird. Unlike him, she must be a bad influence. FRIDAY, get on that. Figure out what the newbies were doing joyriding over there. I mean, besides canoodling on the beach. I know it's creepy spying on your older brother, but do it for dad, okay?"

"I will find out, Tony..."

Natasha was gone by the time he turned back around to bat his eyes at her, but, as always, she left that feeling of her watching as she went. "On second thought, FRIDAY, send them to the West Coast. I want them nowhere near the Widow for the time being."

"Of course, sir. Shall I upload the files the Vision has forwarded?"

"Into the Mnemosyne file. Then text Steve. Tell him he's a hypocrite and that we missed Bruce again. If he cares. May be too busy being a sneaky, shady hypocrite…"

"All of that, sir?"

"Why not? And track the signal."

Meanwhile, Natasha had made it down to Tessa's room. Unfortunately, no one was answering. She took a deep breath and knocked again, pulling out a small screwdriver set as she did. The lock panel was off a second later. "Tessa? Are you in there?"

Still no answer. The question now was: sacrifice her trust in Natasha respecting her privacy, or risk Tessa's wellbeing. It wasn't a question. Natasha shorted out the locking mechanism and then, the door unsealing with a hiss beside her, screwed the panel back on. She pushed the door open gently and peeked inside. Tessa was sitting on her bed, headphones on, looking out the window. In a rare moment of having her walls down, her hair was tucked behind her ears, sleeves rolled up as she clasped her knees. Natasha could count at least twelve surgical scars, the worst around Tessa's ears. This was a sensitive situation, these were Tessa's secrets. Natasha couldn't let her know that she'd seen them. So, she eased the door closed and then pulled out her phone.

When she opened the door this time, it was with gusto and her phone out. "Hey, Tessa! You want dinner?"

There was a scuffle of frantic motions and a small crash, but by the time she looked up Tessa was all composed, all covered up. She also looked a little shocked. "That… that door was locked."

"Yeah, I picked the lock. Wanted to make sure you hadn't tried to climb out the window with your bedsheets as a rope. That would've been bad for your health." She grinned as Tessa considered her. "But, are you hungry? I was thinking we could stop by a spot on the way to the hospital."

Her face lit up. "You're coming to the hospital with me?"

"Yeah, thought I might. If you don't mind."

"I'd love it." When Tessa was enthusiastic about something, she had a way of exuding it, making it contagious. Natasha had to grin back. "And the kids'll love it, too. You're an Avenger! They'll flip shit. And… the girls… the girls'll… I'm glad you're coming."

"Great." Natasha ignored the blush and put her arm around Tessa's shoulders. "So, do you like Thai food?"

"I… I think so?"

Natasha scoffed. "Oh, that's not a good sign. Don't tell me Clint didn't feed you while he was here. He's forgetful when it comes to that, and we all know Stark is no paragon of personal care. You ate, didn't you?"

"I had three square meals a day. Thanks to FRIDAY."

"Of course. Well, let's get you fed up, not by the Tower's AI, as much as I appreciate FRIDAY." She continued towards the door, Tessa shuffling along with her. "And then, if you're ready, I have a debriefing session on the docket for you. Are you up for that?"

Tessa laughed. "Uh, yeah. I'm up for that."

"Been bored out of your mind? I'm sorry, the first week might not have been up to your expectations, but we'll have you employed regularly soon."

She shrugged under Natasha's arm. "More like I want a distraction. Not to say that I wasn't bored, because I feel like that's intrinsic to who I am, but it was more that I was… disillusioned."

"Ah, not living up to expectations in a more disconcerting way? I promise, not everyone is like Tony Stark. No one is exactly like him, thankfully. And now that the diagnostic stage is over, you'll not have to deal with him on a daily basis. Although…" Natasha paused, evaluated Tessa's interest in what she was about to say. When she turned to look at Natasha instead of her feet, Nat continued. "If you don't mind a few brief interactions with him a day, the rest of our team would appreciate your observation of him."

"You want me to spy on him," Tessa laughed.

"Are you surprised?"

"No, not in the least. I just find it funny, because he's clearly interested in the same thing for everyone else. Your team is... dysfunctional."

"We have some fundamental differences in opinion on certain matters, yes. We only work all together when we must. All the same, we're on the same side, and what we'd have you observing for is actually in Stark's benefit. He has…"

"Self-destructive tendencies?"

"Precisely." She herded Tessa into the elevator, smiled up into the camera. "But he knows that we look out for him, because of them. And that, in reality, his secrets are what get him in trouble."

Under her hand, she could feel Tessa was nodding, but her eyes were steady, locked on Natasha's own. Time to lighten things up. Remembering Clint's warning, she dropped her arm and instead bumped her with her hip. "So, enough with the business talk. Have you done anything fun this week? Did you take advantage of living not in the hospital?"

Tessa swayed with the bump but dropped her chin. "Not so much… I'm… not good at all that."

"That's fine. Clint wasn't the best to have around for that, but I'll get you introduced to some places while I'm here. And in a few days, Jessica Jones will be back in town. She contacted me to make sure you were alright. I think she'll want to stop by and visit. Maybe she can show you around, too. From what I know, she knows the city very well."

That brightened Tessa up again. "Jessica? She asked after me?"

"Yeah. She's the one who clued us in to your situation."

"She was… kind to me. She treated me like a normal person, first time in… many years. I appreciated that."

"I'm not surprised. And I understand. So, we'll be sure she gets to stop by. It's probably a good idea for you to have a connection to the world beyond the Tower. Anyway, did we decide Thai food was okay? And do you have a problem with motorcycles?"

Tessa lightly bumped her hip back. "Yes and no. Though, I really wouldn't know either way…"

"Well, you'll know by the end of the day." She winked and pulled Tessa out of the elevator and into the lobby. She was hesitant about a lot of things, but Natasha had learned that she responded well to tactile coaxing, a pat here, a tug there.

She knew why. In fact, Natasha was acutely aware of how her particular brand of interpersonal communication came off. She regularly used that to her advantage, that was part of being a Widow. Humans were easy creatures to manipulate ninety percent of the time and knowing her effect on many of them made Natasha the precision agent she was. The fact that she could not be similarly worked was in her favor and usually turning on her charm was a means to an end, something that she tolerated. Sometimes, not. Sometimes it ended up creating something a little more insidious. With Tessa, things were leaning towards that long term consequence outlier. She would have to keep an eye on that, not lead her on. That had worked out poorly for her in the past, the misunderstanding that could ensue.

Tessa was, in a word, adorable on the motorcycle. Natasha had expected some nerves, maybe a bit of terrified clinging. She had not, however, anticipated the woops and shrieks of delight as they rounded turns and accelerated. She acted like that was the most fun she'd ever had. Then it dawned on Natasha, it probably was. She'd never gone to a theme park or played outside in sports or otherwise. She'd lived in a hospital where the fastest she'd gone was on an elevator, maybe in stolen wheelchairs run down hallways. So, Natasha took the long way to the restaurant.

"Ah! Is that your motorcycle?" Tessa asked, laughing breathlessly as she hopped onto the curb.

"No, unfortunately not. I'm borrowing it from a friend, taking care of it while he's away."

Tessa's smile didn't falter. "I think I need to get a license. That was the best."

"Well, if that's the case," Natasha put away their helmets, smoothed her flyaways. "You need to tell Jessica Jones to take you to Coney Island. Trust me. Or maybe Clint and I can take you sometime. From what I'm told, it's a classic."

Tessa gazed up at her like she'd just made the sun rise and Natasha had to look away. No more hard sell, for sure, she noted. Ease off the physical contact, ensure comfort with her, not any other connection. Tessa didn't skip a beat, however.

"Really? I don't mean to sound like a little kid, I just… I've never done anything… like that. No, you know, classically fun things like that. And with you two… that's… that's like a dream come true. Oh, god, that sounds sad, doesn't it?"

Natasha laughed, waved an arm towards the restaurant. "No, not at all. I completely understand. The first time I saw a swimming pool… it was a life changing experience. Speaking of, Thai food… this is my favorite place in the city. Just wait until you smell inside. We'll get a pot of tea… have some food… and then get some business talk over with. Come on."

Across town, up in his ivory tower, Stark was eating significantly less delicious noodles. They were just fuel, to keep him going. He was taking advantage of his housemates being out by working like a maniac on his more secret projects.

"Sir, Captain Rogers responded. Shall I read it out?"

"Hit me."

"'Mind your own business, Tony, like you know you should. Too bad about Banner. When he wants to be found, I'll be there to welcome him back.' Shall I respond, sir?"

"Nah. Talk about an eff you. That's fine, the old man can piddle fart around on his own project as long as he wants. Keeps him out of my hair. Less of mommy and daddy bickering in front of the kids. Hey, FRIDAY, pull up the Vision's files. I wanna see what we got. Oh, and try another round of simulations for the synthetic neural net but map on Tess's beta wave patterns from earlier today."

Tony finished off his cup of noodles and squinted up at the read outs. He blinked a few times and then tapped his forehead. It matched exactly what Thor had said, what his creepy skin book had mentioned. This was not good news. The cosmic blah blahs didn't do things without reason. One of their world guardian entities starts dying, it was mega bad news for everyone on that world.

"FRIDAY, I know it's gonna ruffle some feathers, especially with Widow all up my tail pipe, but send them back. We have to put this entity in stasis and they're the only two who can do that. Everyone's going to find out eventually anyways. Ugh… and I just fixed the place up. They better not blow up my bar again when they throw their tantrum. Oh, and have them bring the caretaker, too."

"Sir, the Vision and Ms. Maximoff have been deployed. Additionally, unfortunately the simulations were all failures. The artificial neural pathways were incapable of emulating the beta wave patterns accurately, not without the mind gem's influence. That said, I took the initiative and ran the same simulations using only Dr. Bisho's readouts. It appears hers is the perfect organic memory system. They were successful."

The ratchet he'd been spinning around his finger dropped, clattered. "You don't say…"

"I hate to spoil the fun," Natasha said, back among the plebs. She sat back down with a fresh pot of tea and stifled a snicker at the caricature Tessa had been doodling on the napkin. It was a distinctive but harrowingly accurate one of the large nosed gentleman eating behind them. "But, are you ready to do some work?"

Tessa pushed away her masterpiece and wrapped her hands around her teacup. "Yes, ma'am. What you guys brought me out for, I'm ready to earn that."

"Okay. Let's begin. This is BW debriefing T001, G team scoured location 859 completely. Objective missing but traces remained. One hut, damaged but in working order, burned documents and tattered clothing. Odd, but we suspect the target remains powered up. We also believe he is heading east. Trail lost in the ocean." Natasha breathed out a sigh and then grinned. "There. First debriefing complete. How do you feel?"

Across the table, Tessa just blinked. "Uh… underwhelmed?"

Natasha let out a laugh. "Yes, I understand that. It's important nonetheless. Now, your turn."

"My turn?"

"Yes. Did you… observe anything… odd while with Stark? Not that you would necessarily know that from any of his other eccentricities."

"Odd…" Tessa chewed that over, her eyes distancing. "Anything odd?"

Natasha nodded.

"Well, for starters, and again, this may just be who he is, he seemed… fixated… yeah, fixated on the ways he could replicate what he called my organic RAM, which I suppose he assumed I wouldn't process? … I know that he's successfully created AI … but replicating brain waves and electro-chemical messages with technology seems… absurd, since he's striving for the assimilation of the organic processes and pathways to the technological vessel. He… wants life in a metal skin?"

"Yes…" Natasha was struggling not to show her concern. "That is odd." She finished her tea, counted to ten. "Anything else?"

"Well, I mean… Clint was there most of the time. When he wasn't, Stark seemed more… focused? He was quieter. So, yeah, I think that's it, besides the team he deployed. He called them a search party. Didn't mention for what. FRIDAY did mention a caretaker called Aristo calling before he gave those orders."

Natasha nodded, sucking on her teeth. "Yes, I'd say that's odd as well. Thank you, Tessa, I believe you just filled me in. You are going to be a very valuable team member, and a liability deterrent." She forced a smile and waved down their waiter. "You ready to teach that class?"


	4. Secrets and Intrigue

There were exactly six pots of tea arranged on the table in front of Jessica, each with its own handmade cozy. She had no idea why the two of them needed six pots of tea, but she was intrigued by them. They steamed and filled the room with a pleasant earthiness and a hint of spice. Jessica leaned forward and considered their cozies as her host washed a few cups in the bathroom sink. They sure were intricate for essentially being sweaters for inanimate porcelain pots. That begged the question: what the fuck had Jess gotten Tessa into here?

"So, uh… Tess, babe, what've you been up to lately? I mean, last time we chatted you were taking a break after being busy, busy with diagnostics and crap but not much else. I figured that would change once Stark waved his magic wand and you got settled in. You know, like, you'd be an Avenger or something. Let's hear it, what's it like being on the team with the world's mightiest heroes?"

Tessa laughed in the bathroom. It echoed around for a bit, sounding more and more hollow. "If you mean being the stats keeper for the world's mightiest heroes, then I can fill you in on that. Anything else… I've been in the dark as much as any Joe Schmoe."

"Nah, they brought you in as an asset. You're bound to be doing something other than looking pretty and keeping some books, right? What do you do for the team?"

"Turns out," Tessa sighed, passing Jessica a cup and the sugar pot. "Things don't just magically happen, not even for the Avengers. Things take time, and, you know what? They've spent a lot of that time just talking about what they're going to do, at least since I got here. Keeping the world safe is apparently not all go, go, go. Or, maybe that was just me… I mean, they sure do seem extra dysfunctional all up close. I thought it was just getting behind the velvet curtain, but maybe I've thrown the wrench in the works… or I am the wrench. … … … Huh. So, uh, yeah. In short, I haven't been doing much of anything up until this point, and things are far from finished on the Stark end."

Jessica took a gulp and literally seared the entirety of her soft palate off. She was a little hoarse when she responded. "What do you mean far from finished on Stark's end?" That wasn't where she had wanted to start, but she hadn't known where to start. So, there it was.

"Oh, well, they're trying, him and Dr. Cho. She's been here for a several weeks, since just after my first and only debriefing, actually. She and Stark are now on test eighty-eight for the replacement parts for my brain. It's not a hard and fast thing, their biomechanics. And, I suppose, I'll have to wait a while longer on that now…" Tessa blew on her tea, pushed the hair down around her ears.

"First debriefing? So that's what you're here for?" Jessica waved her hands, shook her head, felt the questions rattling around like angry bees. "Forget that. What is so dysfunctional? And why in the world would you think you're the problem? Why will you have to wait longer? And what are they stuck talking abo-- no… no… ignore me. One thing at a time. They brought you in to keep the minutes in debriefings? Really?"

"Yeah, nominally. I've only had one, with Natasha. That's mostly because, with Stark going all mad scientist, she and Clint are here all the time, keeping an eye on him. Doesn't leave much time for the whole 'doing stuff to put in their walking mission log' thing."

"Stark's gone mad scientist? More than before? Let me guess, that's part of the dysfunction." Jessica's ass was starting to sweat. This was going one more thing to be guilty forever about. Maybe there was something to her leaving her head in the sand permanently.

Tessa was holding up, though. She nodded, knuckle in her eye, but voice steady. "Yeah… there have been some… arguments. But hey, plus side: I got to meet Captain America when he came in to chastise Stark. Really put him in line."

"Put him in line over what?" Yep. Definite ass sweat. Some under-boob glistening, too.

"Well… Natasha and Clint may not have been very busy, but Stark certainly has been, and not with things that he was going to share in debriefings. Considering his past… horrible life decisions, Captain Rogers was not at all pleased to learn that Stark was meddling with cosmic crap without consulting the team, or anyone else."

"And that's what they were fighting about?" First angry bees, now extreme stress sweats. Jessica did not even care that her tea was still scalding hot. At least the pain took her mind off the other clusterfuck she'd inadvertently created for Tessa by trying to help her.

"Yup. Strangely, more about the secret keeping than the whole futzing around with a world guardian part. They have a… weird outlook on things. Very skewed perspective. Maybe it's a part of the savior complex? … … …"

"Okay… we'll come back to what that means in a second. First, how in the world could you see that and think, 'yeah, sure, I'm responsible for this shit show'?"

"Uh… it's a bit more complicated than me being responsible. I meant it when I said wrench in the works. I'm pretty sure I was the catalyst, the temptation that sent Stark barreling head first off the wagon."

Jessica shook the bees from her head, gave up trying to work out Tessa's twisty turny approach to explaining. Just sat back. "That's it, enough questions from me. Just put it all out there. Tell me what in the hell is going on around here so I can get started hating myself for getting you all up in it."

"Oh, I don't blame you in the least, Jessica. And you shouldn't feel guilty, you were just, you know, doing what a decent person would do seeing someone being exploited. I think… Uh… anyway… what's going on around here… Where… to… start…?" She laughed, "how about with my role in it all? Turns out, Tony Stark made grabby hands about getting to work with my brain for more than just the potential to revolutionize neurology. He had been trying to find a neural map to replicate in order to-- you know what? That's not the best place to start. Let's do this chronologically.

"So, back before anyone but Sophie knew I existed, Stark got this call from some random guy across the world. Or, Stark thought that to begin with. He was desperate for Stark's attention, he'd seen his creation, the Vision, who incidentally isn't just Stark's creation, but whatever. Anyway, he saw Stark essentially create a new sentience and he was looking for something similar to save this cosmic entity that he was apparently the caretaker for, so he called Stark to make just that. Tony almost laughed the guy off the line. This man, with his thick accent and crazy story, just sounded like a nut job, right? But then he started saying some things that made sense.

"He could tell Stark things other people didn't know, explain holes in his life, in the world's history accounts. His claim that he was reaching out in the service of some mystical keeper of all memory didn't seem so far-fetched suddenly. But then again, it could be a parlor trick. So, Stark acted like the good little scientist he is and did some research. On two fronts: books and eye witnesses. He sent his new heavy hitters, the Vision and Wanda Maximoff, to investigate in person and he dug into the only library he knew of that would have any pertinent information on this sort of thing, Thor's tome trove. Both turned up positive results.

"This thing did exist. It, or rather she, is called Mnemosyne and she's some kind of ancient being sent here by the cosmic bigwigs to guard the legacy of this world. In short, she safeguards memory, all kinds of memory, all memory in fact, and if she ebbs away, we're all screwed. She's the hub for our consciences… or something. Stark did some exasperated hand waving when he tried to explain exactly how her power works, I think mainly because he can't fit it into his science-myopic worldview. Bottom line: she goes bye-bye, so do we. At least, our species as we've existed up until now. … It's kind of funny, I wouldn't mind not having my memories, but not having them, all of us not having them would be some global tragedy… I don't know… I'm getting side-tracked. Anyways, so she's dying and she needs a body to sustain her, Stark was going to make that.

"Why not just some robot body and let her animate it, you may ask? Well, that's the big, hilarious irony of this thing. For her to survive, she must be remembered. Ha! Isn't that great? Those cosmic bosses were a little short-sighted if you ask me, and now they're gone so no one can stop the fact that this world guardian is dying because no one remembers her but her. She used to be worshipped. Actually, her name isn't really Mnemosyne, that's just what the last civilization to worship her named her, and they're all gone, except her little caretaker. His name's Aristo, by the way. Are you keeping up?"

"I think my ears are bleeding, but… yeah… old thing, paradox of its existence, help from Stark…"

"Good, you are. Okay, continuing: so, she's got to be remembered, she can't be forgotten by the last of us who know about her or poof! She's gone and with her, our asses. Another intrinsic problem: humans are mortal. Little Aristo and whomever he can convince she exists are all eventually going to die. She's too weak to make a big show to win over a following of worshippers, so last resort: a vessel for her that will keep her safe and remember her. Up until now, little Aristo's been housing her in a shrine, not forgetting her all by himself. The goal was to create an AI that would house her consciousness and never forget her. Problem was, the Vision is a beautiful, unique butterfly. Or that's what Stark says. I haven't met him yet. So, yeah. He can't recreate an independent sentience that'll replicate human thought patterns, particularly of memory."

"But that's where you come in!" Jessica let her head flop into her hands.

"Uh-huh. Stark had been tinkering with the idea of diving in to help, but when I came into play he went full Monty with the thing. Stopped theorizing and went hands on. He sent the Vision and Wanda to retrieve Mnemosyne and Aristo and bring them back to the States, while he tried to copy the train wreck of my brain. He hasn't succeed yet, but they did. It's taken them a while to get here, something about stasis and travel, but they're finally here and once they entered US airspace the rest of the team was on them and Stark's ass. With him acting all shady about replicating my brain, things had already been on high alert, so they were ready to nip it in the bud. Needless to say, there was a lot of yelling and he is not allowed to see me unsupervised. I've learned a new style of crocheting since then… That's all I know for now, but he's supposed to explain everything, in immense detail, in a few days when the whole lot of them-- including me to quote-unquote deter liability-- meet at their Upstate facility for a big team meeting slash damage control planning."

"Okay… cosmic entities… robot bodies… brain copying… all the kinds of shit that I don't want to deal with anymore… You leaving anything out?"

"When Natasha dragged him out of his lab and they all confronted Stark about being a sneaky little rat, he shouted 'not my bar this time, guys!' And then jumped away from it, but all that happened was that Captain Rogers punched him in the mouth. Everyone else just looked like they expected this but were still disappointed. I'm starting to think that maybe I don't actually want Tony Stark having anything to do with my brain. That said, I might become more useful soon because with the Vision and Wanda back, they're going to be training and will have me observe. So, that's kind of exciting. Also, little known Avengers fact: Hawkeye's deaf and has zero self-esteem. And Stark's only about five foot six. He wears special shoes. Tiny little man, big issues, really conflicted. Captain Rogers on the other hand? Quite tall. And he smells like liberty and justice and principals. So, yeah, when he punched Tony… it was night-night time. TKO. But he's, like, socially impaired or something like I am, oddly enough. Oh, and, apparently the Hulk is MIA… All very flawed… the whole team's just one big dysfunctional bin of power."

"Well… yeah… Okay, I'd say that about answers all my questions. Ever. All but this: WHY IN THE WORLD DIDN'T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE IN THE SHIT SOONER SO I COULD COME SMUGGLE YOU OFF TO JAMAICA OR SOMETHING?"

Tessa looked at her tea like she could read the right answer in it. "Well, heh, you know. I… made friends? … I didn't want to get you involved when you'd just gotten out? I'm invested?"

"Ugh!" Jessica did not care that she had overturned her cup, that the still-hot tea was now soaking into her pants. That answer deserved a wide and violent hand gesture. "You have a problem, chica, with getting invested when you very clearly shouldn't. Come on, I'm packing you up and getting you the fuck outta dodge."

Her arm slipped from Jessica's grasp, its owner stayed seated. "Oh, I don't know about that… it's just Stark, really, who's the problem. I've been treated well otherwise. I'm still teaching and I'm about to become more useful than ever. It's not like--"

"Who is it?" Jessica snapped to attention. She knew the sound of that rationalizing. She'd done it before herself. "Who are you sticking around for?"

Tessa pulled her hair down to her chin, fiddled with her sleeve. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're the shittiest liar I have ever encountered. Please tell me it's not Stark, you know he's trouble. And spoken for."

"Uh, no!" Tessa scoffed so hard it was almost a snort. "Never in a million years. I have issues but they don't extend to blinding me into falling for an ass face like him. Don't worry about that."

Jess crossed her arms and proceeded to stare at Tessa. "I know it's someone. Just tell me, chica. I'm investigator, I'll find out in any case."

"It--it's no one, Jess. I'm not delusional, I know how I fit in here."

"Which is…"

"I mean relative to them. Not well, I don't fit in well. They're all… you know…"

"Horribly dysfunctional?" Jessica offered. "Dysfunctional, yet immensely capable."

"Those things, yes. But I was going more for, you know, how they look. They're… classically--"

"Oh, you mean they're pretty?"

"Uh, yeah. Very pretty and all way, way, way out of my league. Even with their dysfunctions. I'm just their sad, chubby, little, socially impaired ward."

It was Jess' turn to scoff. "Whatever. I'm not even gonna validate that comment by responding to it. Look, you've got the hurt for someone, let's act like we've been friends forever and giggle about it. Let's talk about anything else that doesn't make us likely to forcibly lose our hair."

Tessa sighed and shuffled her tea pots to fill up their cups again. "Fine. I've always wanted that classic adolescent experience anyway."

"Great. So, who is that has you all worked up and self-conscious? Please tell me they haven't rejected you but that this is really some overblown lack of confidence eating your esteem away."

"Oh, lord, no." Tessa let out a bitter laugh. "Like I said, I know how I stand. No--not that she would have rejected me, necessarily. More like, I just… I just know I'm not her type…"

Jessica set down the tea she'd been cooling, now forgotten. "Oh… the Widow… yeah, I can see that--I mean your interest in her, not the not being her type part!"

"Mm. I mean, she's my friend, at least. I can't really complain. She takes good care of me. Always considerate and sensitive and attentive, but like a close friend would be not… not like you would be to someone you considered a--a--a romantic interest. I guess what I'm trying to say is, she's decidedly… not flirty. Not the way she can be with others."

"Well, maybe that is her way of expressing affection, or maybe, you know, trust. Comfort. She doesn't have to put on the hyper-suggestive Black Widow persona with you, because, you know, she feels like she can be real, be herself without any pretense or charade." Jessica shrugged and nodded, convinced by her own argument. "But, you know what you should do? You should talk to her friend, Hawkeye. Whatever his name is. They're really close. Or whoever else you've found out is close to her. That way you can get some insight, maybe some advice, and if not, a step towards closure."

Tessa took a sip of her tea and tapped her chin, pondering that. "Yeah. I'll do that. When we get back from Upstate. I'll have some time to do that with less pressure, 'cause Clint and I'll be on training observation rounds together. Good advice. Thanks, Jess."

"Pssh, no prob. What good am I otherwise?" Jessica finally got to trying her cup, immediately regretting it, as it was still like drinking lava. "Ack! Uh… to change the topic slightly and distract me from the immense scalding pain in my mouth, I have a question. Not to be weird, but do you only like girls? Did I make you feel uncomfortable trying to set you up with that guy last week? If I did you should punch me now and in the future just tell me when I'm being blindly ignorant."

Tessa chuckled as she waved Jess' offered arm away. "No, no uncomfortableness. I dig guys, too. I mean, I've definitely had… the feelings for guys before. But…"

"But what? You can tell me. Look at this face. Do I look like someone who hasn't seen, done, and heard it all?"

A little grin crept up, only to be promptly replaced by a grimace. "But… and I don't want to sound harsh here, Jess, because I like having you as a friend--"

"Oh, just spit it out."

"You have poor taste in men." Tessa then made a face Jessica had only seen on a person who had just accidentally dropped a baby. "I mean, in my opinion! In my opinion the guys--you--we don't have the same taste in men!"

Jessica could only laugh. "Yeah, okay that's fair. Because, you know, you like gingers."

"No… not quite. I do. I do like redheads. A lot. But… it was more that… that he was a weird dude. Kinda… intense?"

"Oh, too serious too fast?"

"… no? How do I explain it? Uh, let's just say that Freud would have had a field day with this guy. Would have said he had some fixations centering around… anxiety about… his… man…ness."

"Uh… yeah, that qualifies as weird. Like, what do you mean? He was worried about his performance?"

"No!" Tessa actually looked like she was clutching imaginary pearls around her neck. "God, no. I didn't… no… just… he kept insinuating his masculinity was not an issue, as in, I would be impressed… like, all through dinner and in…not tasteful ways."

Jessica gagged a little imagining how that could've gone. "Gross. Sorry. He seemed so normal when I… was… helping him track down his wife. … … Yeah, I guess normal people don't have wives who steal their entire livelihood and then hightail it to Monaco… Man, maybe you're right. Maybe you should be setting me up. You clearly have better taste. Okay, this has been fun and all, but I'm ready to get out of this place in case Dr. Banner shows up late to the berate Tony Stark party and tears it down on my head. You ready to go?"

"Uh… maybe?" Tessa gestured down at herself. "Do I seem ready to go?"

Jessica tossed her a pair of shoes. "Yeah. Just put those on instead, this place is a bit of a walk."

Tessa froze, one shoe on. "You're walking me through town. You remember who I am, right? You do know and openly acknowledge that this is going to be a shit show, don't you?"

"Yes, yes. I know what I'm doing. Now, come on. It'll be fine. You're just a person who'll be walking. No big deal. Happens all the time. Besides, people aren't going to just start having a convo with you in the street. You won't even have a chance to make it weird. Not that I expect you to do that."

Tessa scoffed and finished putting her shoe on. "Fine, but you're the one with a reputation to maintain. I take no responsibility for any asshattery that results from me being in public."

"Great. Awesome. Excellent. Just as long as we get out of this death trap. You're moving in with me, by the way. ASAP."

Jessica was convinced that she was right and Tessa was getting all worked up over nothing. Funny thing was, she was only about fifteen minutes into their adventure when Tessa proved her wrong for the second time that day. She had apparently underestimated Tessa's ability to make social blunders.

They had made good time. Crossed a big part of the city pretty quickly and without incident when they came to Jessica's neighborhood. She was pointing out her favorite spots, knowing Tess would remember them and could make good use of that knowledge in the future. And that's when it happened, the biggest social failure Jessica had ever been witness to. Tessa barreled right over a blind guy. She'd been looking up at the deli Jess had pointed out, not paying attention and stamped all over him, stick and all. It was atrocious. It was so bad, in fact, that Jessica kept walking for a bit to get away from the train wreck.

She felt bad about it, about abandoning Tessa, right out of the gate, to apologize for not paying attention, to pick up his phone and stuff, but this was Jess' neighborhood. She didn't want to be remembered as being a part of that. By the time she got her head back on it was resolved. Thankfully, Tessa had some degree of social grace up those sleeves of hers and had taken care of it while Jess panicked from secondhand embarrassment.

"God, Tess, you okay?" She asked her as she returned, a little flushed but surprisingly composed. "You, uh… you just walked over a blind guy!"

Tessa shook her head with a weak laugh. "I told you. Fool. Me."

"As long as you're okay, right?"

"Oh, sure. Let's pretend like this isn't an all-time low for me. Fuck, this is so embarrassing…"

Jessica looped her arm around Tessa's shoulders and began to pull her along. "Oh, don't worry about it. It's not like you need to worry about seeing him again, right?"

Tessa snorted. "I wouldn't mind it, all things considered…" She gave Jess a significant look and the two of them had to stop again. He was still there, on the corner, now on his phone. Jess knew what she meant immediately.

"Uh, yeah. I certainly would not mind seeing him around sometime. Mm. Yep. That ass is everybody's type, amiright? Yum."

"No doubt," Tessa chuckled, chewing at her lip. "And he was really nice. No penis double entendre or nothing."

"Ha. And a little gingery. Well, at least now I know what to look for when I set you up next. Redheads! Now, come one. That corned beef isn't going to eat itself in gross, inhuman amounts."


	5. Deterring Liability

The New Avengers facility had been planned and realized as a new beginning, a fresh start. So, the fact that it was and had been made to house this cabal of Stark's was an affront to the promise it symbolized. An abomination. The feeling of betrayal floating around their group was not made any less palpable by the weather. Distracting small talk was basically impossible while the thundering storm and high winds were a loud and inescapably present reflection of the mood that was being quelled for peace's sake among the team.

It wasn't that they hadn't expected it. They had, Natasha had made sure that that was the case. It was the fact that the last stab in the back was still fresh, still tender. Worse, against everything, it made Stark seem like he was anything but contrite and repentant. It made him seem like a liar. Natasha prided herself on finding liars before they found themselves. Her failure at doing just that was the big throb for her at that moment. And the little ache of guilt that Tessa, someone they'd been requisitioned to protect, had been caught up in it. But guilt never got anyone anywhere good in this world and, for this trip to be anything other than something worse than the problem it was proposed to resolve, Natasha had to put the personal issues behind her.

There were things to be done. And she had to make sure everyone was behaving for their special guests. Their secret special guests. Because, once they weren't secret anymore, Natasha was sure behavior would be at an all-time low. So, to make a good impression at the start. She also had the issue of Tessa to handle, and carefully.

She was a known shut-in, inclined to bouts of erratic emotional responses and disinhibition, and, possibly more problematic, gently becoming enamored with Natasha. She understandably was going to be attached to her with an even more extreme ferocity at this, the single most terrifying ordeal they had put her through. She'd hated the quinjet ride, became agitated at the idea of meeting so many new people, and had resorted to coping mechanisms they hadn't seen from her since removing her from the hospital. Currently, she was reciting the Hippocratic oath under her breath.

Natasha had stashed her with Clint in one of the smaller side meeting rooms at the Upstate facility before hurrying off to finish her own prep. Tessa had tried begging and bargaining to get Natasha to stay with her, but everyone knew that was not only a bad idea for their working relationship but an untenable course of action. So, as Barton had literally nothing to do at this meeting besides voice his disapproval, which he could do without any foresight or preparation, he sat and mollified Tessa.

With the flight plans checked and double-checked for the secret special guests and everyone else already present, Natasha had returned to the room and was attempting to prepare Tessa for the next eight hours of anxiety-inducing social bombardment.

"There's no pressure on you, Tessa. Remember that. Your presence is all that's required, and attention of course. You being here and listening will act as a deterrent all on its own. I know that it's kind of a big group for you, but think of it this way: you've already met basically half of them. Okay?"

She could see Clint counting off on his fingers behind Tessa. She already knew the two of them, of course, and Dr. Cho, Stark, and Steve. Maximoff and the Vision would be new, and interesting, acquaintances for her, along with Rhodes and Natasha's other two invitees. She wasn't sure if Sam would show up, what with Steve postponing his own concerns, yet again, for the team's. She figured Wilson would stay out on the search for Steve's sake. But then again, he was a new team member whose absence might draw more questions than it was worth. It was a toss-up, and either way it would be basically half and half, like she'd said.

"They're, uh… th--they're not going to want to t--t--talk to me, ar--are they?"

Clint grimaced. Natasha had the same reaction internally. She couldn't lie to her. "Considering the fact that you have the potential to be a resolving factor in this situation, with the compatibility between your neural functions and this entity's, I'm sorry, Tessa, but, yes. They are going to want to speak with you. And for other reasons as well, you're a part of this organization now."

"Part of the team," Clint corrected and Natasha nodded.

Tessa looked to be chewing that over. And she didn't appear to like the taste of it. "I'm not going to make a great impression."

"Let's save the evaluation of that until after the fact, yes?" Natasha stood and headed for the door. "I'm going to introduce you slowly, a few at a time to temper you to the effect. How does that sound?"

Tessa stopped mumbling _The Art of War_ just long enough to nod.

"Great. I'll be right back with the Vision and Maximoff."

Clint watched Natasha go and then went back to counting attendees on his fingers. Something was going on there, under Nat's little motivational speech just then. As far as he could tell, Tessa already knew over half of the people coming to yell at Tony. But Natasha used her words carefully and 'basically half' meant 'a little under half' in persuasive-diction mode.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the campus, Tony was struggling. And nobody seemed to care. Not that that was a big surprise, them not caring about how he was feeling. What was surprising was that they seemed to have stopped caring in general when it came to him. Like, they weren't even bitching at him anymore. After the big, hair-band volume reprimanding that ended in Tony needing reconstructive rhinoplasty, they'd basically stopped acknowledging his existence except to tell him 'no'. And that was literally it, they would just say 'no', wait until he stopped doing what earned the 'no', and then would carry on looking through him.

Tony preferred the yelling. Steve was the worst. After putting him down for the night, he must have left, was gone when Tony came to. Since no one would talk to him, Tony had to deduce that Cap had returned to his own secret business. And now, now that he was back in their baby pet project's home, he was silent-treating Tony like a pro.

This all made it very difficult for him to get it up and compose his speech. It was the last thing that they'd said to him, Steve really: that Tony had better get his act together, read up, and fill them in properly. If they weren't in the know, there was no way they were going to support him. He had to inform and persuade them in one fell swoop. Normally, that would have been amateur hour, but again, performance issues were a bitch. If only his dear ole dad were there, to help him learn how not to disappoint people…

It was in the midst of his unproductive, pity party that Tony spotted Natasha. She looked both determined and in a hurry. It was the perfect moment for him to subtly beg forgiveness and get a little ego-petting pep talk. And she was definitely, among all his friends, the one to do that!

"Romanoff!" He took off down the hall behind her. She didn't skip a step. "Natasha! Nat! Widow!" She was as good at Barton at the turning a deaf ear skit. She was clearly the worst possible choice for what Tony needed in that moment, but he was already suffering from his superior inferiority complex to the max that day and could not admit defeat. So, he followed her. And found his inspiration.

Granted, his inspiration was not happy to see him either, but at least she talked to him.

"Stark, you are not supposed to be around me--"

"Without supervision, but lo! An adult and her halfwit sidekick!" He waved at Natasha and Clint, then backed away with his hands up. "But, don't worry, I'm outta here! I've got a lecture to prepare. You get that, being a teacher, right?"

He had needed to see Tessa, to remind him how and why his project was possible, to give him a thread to follow through his speech, since his usual thread --how awesome he was-- would not get him where he wanted with this crowd. So, it had been perfect serendipity to follow Natasha to her. But right at that moment he really needed to get away from Tessa, who looked like she was about to have one of her outbursts. An angry one, probably with a lot of questions phrased as exclamations that would make Tony rethink his whole outlook. He didn't have time for that at the moment. He'd just found the express line for his train of thought. Worldview reconsiderations could wait until after he'd successfully convinced everyone of his own.

The occupants of the room were, as was the current norm, happy to see Tony Stark's back and then watch it disappear. Unfortunately, as was also usual, his presence had soured the mood. Everyone sort of waited for the aftershock to wane in silence. Then, the other normal effect of his set in, disappointment.

"Uh, I thought you were going to bring Wanda and the Vision. Not… him."

"That was the plan, but like Stark likes to do, he stepped on it. I couldn't corral them before he started tagging along. Sorry, Tessa."

Clint snapped the toothpick he'd been fiddling with in half. "Tess, why _The Art of War_?"

"Clint. Focus, please."

"I am focusing, on something besides Stark's black-hole-like drive-by just now. So, _Art of War,_ Tess, why?"

Tessa blinked around the room. She looked like she was trying to orient herself. "Uh… uh… Sun Tzu? Why not? I, uh, I've always wanted to… uh… relate to the world. Classic pieces from all over seemed a good way to do that. He's not coming back in here, right? I… do not want to talk to him. I don't have to talk to him, do I? I've done that enough already, haven't I? He's not one of the ones…"

"No," Clint responded before Natasha could more diplomatically answer. "No, you won't have to talk with him today, but you will have to listen. Like, he said, big lecture going down within the hour." He climbed up out of his chair with some labor. "Speaking of, I doubt we have time for proper meet 'n greets now, right Tasha?"

She shook her head, lips set.

"No. So, I guess we'll have to do this like a band-aid. Fast and all at once."

Tessa's brow folded up and she turned to Natasha for confirmation. Again, she just nodded. Something was bothering her. They'd find out later. Or they wouldn't. Clint just trudged on.

"Come on, Tess, let's get you to the war room."

"It's not really a room for planning wars, right? You're making a reference to--"

"Yeah, just a reference."

Natasha trailed them by three strides. She was mad at herself. If she hadn't allowed her choices to be controlled by her emotions, she would have spoken to Stark, stopped him from preventing her plan for tempering Tessa to their over stimulating band of accidents. Instead, she ignored him out of spite. And what did that get her? Failure and, worse, it put Tessa in a precarious situation, or one more out of hand than it needed to be.

Not only could she not do right by her as a team member, but then their other precarious situation hindered her from doing by right by her as a friend. Comfort was often a gesture mistaken as something else when it came from Natasha. Nurturing had never been separate from other more manipulative actions in her past. She couldn't risk it with Tessa's sensitive perception of the relationship between them. So, instead she let Clint do that, with _The Art of War._ Clumsy, but mostly effective, his distraction approach. Natasha steeled herself and caught up with them. She was going to have to figure out a new way of negotiating their dynamic, because she did not feel comfortable just taking the back seat.

For now, she was just going to have to keep quiet, at least until things blew over from Stark's intel session. They would just have to hope that Tessa could make it through the whole thing without going off the rails.

Tony, for his part, did a great job whipping his spiel together. He was more than eager to get started with it, too. Eager enough to charge right into it before everyone was actually there. They could catch up later. Tardiness, except for his, was inexcusable.

"…The best metaphor for the laymen in the audience would be something like Wi-Fi distribution. Everybody's got a modem, a router, we process our own signal, send it to do what we want, but it's got to come from somewhere. The hub it all pings off of, that's Mnemosyne. She's got all the wave patterns, all the electro-chemical combinations in all the sequences, all stored in her. I still don't know how, but she does. And ours come from hers, ping off of hers and sustain themselves through her. Again, haven't figured out how. My theory is, if she were to fade out of existence, we wouldn't just magically lose the ability to remember. The receptors and functions of memory in our brains would carry on, but they would corrupt and disintegrate more easily and more quickly. With nothing to refresh our signal, so to speak, we'd all end up with Alzheimer's pretty quickly."

Tony looked around the room in front of him. They all looked appropriately alarmed. Time to send in the closer.

"I know the key to keeping that from happening now. We just have to find the lock." He grinned and flicked his neural net schematics back out into view. "Now, we know the restrictions for a host for Mnemosyne. I know each of the solutions to the difficulties she presents, we just have to figure out how to make them all work together. AI solves the problem of mortality and natural erosion of memory. Unfortunately, native AI, as humans write it isn't up to snuff for sustaining the Mnemosyne consciousness. She's too complex, her operations aren't compatible with non-organic systems. Or organic ones for that matter, they overload, too. All except… Dr. Bisho's."

Tony pointed to the mousy little owner of that name as she actively tried to disappear into thin air.

"Dr. Bisho's--Tessa's neural map is a singularity, a perfect conduit for Mnemosyne's signals. In my simulations, run from data taken from Tessa's active brain, her neurology handled the Mnemosyne activity level and operations easily. And that's because her brain is beautiful, a perfect sustaining processor. And damn impossible to replicate with Dr. Cho's and my techno-organic fabrication process. Mind you, this was just me borrowing Helen's tech to run some experiments-- sorry, Cho-- and maybe it would go better with her real life collaboration, but I've hit a wall. And that's trying to recreate two separate miracles in one: our beautiful accident, the Vision, and natural selection's, Tessa Bisho."

Stark's little speech was all well and good and all, very informative, but it was going a little long. And Clint was getting tired of all the bells and whistles unnecessarily tacked on to the facts. Tony sure loved his rhetoric and the sound of his own voice. Beside him, practically shivering in her chair, Tessa didn't seem to be enjoying it so much either. The damn spot light had been extreme overkill. Clint sensed Tessa was either about to have a breakdown or pee herself. He really hoped it was the latter of the two.

"So, how do you all propose we address this?"

With Tony done speaking and a dull chatter of answers to his question bubbling up, Tessa shot out of her seat and the room. Clint really still hoped it was just a bathroom emergency. Two chairs down, Nat's eyes were on him. He met them and then stood in answer, but unlike Tessa, not without drawing attention.

"What?!" Of course it was Stark, in full blown diva mode, who noticed him. He shouted over everyone's input, hip swung out with a fist resting on it and everything. "This not interesting enough for you, Barton?"

Everyone was suddenly looking at him. Except Natasha. She was pressing fingertips into her eyes, head hung. He didn't have time for this. He had to save Tony's magic key, or whatever, from either a psychotic break… or the bathroom. So, it just tumbled out.

"You know what? Kiss my ass, Tony. It's not as if you'd take my opinion seriously anyway, but if you did, if you want it, fine. Here it is. I don't agree with this. Go figure! I don't think you should be messing with shit you don't fully understand, and I certainly don't think you should be solving a problem that isn't here yet with something that we have no proof will work, or will be actually beneficial. I get saving the world from this or that, but I don't endorse doing it the way Tony's handled it. And, to that, I am fundamentally against any decision or course of action he takes. So, there. If we're bringing it to a vote and I'm not back, you can tally mine as on the not-Stark side."

That left Stark speechless for a precious moment, and sustained the attention of everyone. So, Clint did what popped into his head. He flicked an eff to kay sign in Tony's direction and a few other quick gestures. Only a few people would get it, if any, but it was important that Clint finally told Tony in some capacity to fuck off, and that he was a pretentious ass-hat.

"Uh, anyone know ASL?"

"I don't think we need a translation, Tony. Seemed pretty universally understandable to me."

Clint grinned at Rhodes' response as he jogged down the hall. It was quiet out there. Clint had wasted so much time venting his frustrations at this whole mess that he'd lost Tessa.

"Shit," he murmured and then took a left towards the bathrooms, still hoping it was an urgent pee need that had driven Tessa to run out.

Sure enough, there was evidence of her passing through here down that hall. Wilson, who he hadn't known was there, was in the middle of pointing Hill, who he also hadn't known was there, towards the women's restroom at the end of the hall. Clint closed the distance quickly, catching Wilson before he left. If he was planning on it, at least.

"Tessa in there?" He asked, pointing to where Hill had disappeared a moment before.

Wilson frowned, pulling at the collar of his shirt. "Yeah, man, she's in there, but… she was acting… off. I saw her on my way in from the back, she was muttering to herself, shaking a little. I tried to ask her what was goin' on, if she needed some help, but she got all deer in the headlights and ran in there. So, I grabbed Maria and sent her in after her." He glanced over at Clint, then at his watch. "I missed the big meeting, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Clint sighed, "yeah, you did. I've got this now. You haven't missed the best part yet, though. They're still in there arguing about what to do, if you wanna get in on that."

A pat on Clint's shoulder and Wilson was off. "Good luck, man."

A deep, slow breath and Clint steeled himself for the possible onslaught he might catch on the other side of that door. He was just running through the ways he and Nat had rehearsed for talking Tessa down when he heard a yelp and muffled thump inside the bathroom.

"Late as usual, Clint, you dipshit," he barked at himself, barging into the lady's room.

Inside was exactly what he expected, but he couldn't have explained why. Also, it didn't mean he was relieved or happy about it, just expected it. Maria was kneeling on the ground, ear next to Tessa's mouth, forefinger on her neck. Tessa was clearly unconscious, splayed out on the gleaming white tile. The sight made Clint inexplicably uncomfortable. He could psychoanalyze why later.

"What the fuck, Maria?!"

She sat away and re-holstered her piece. "She's fine, just out."

"Well, I figured you hadn't killed her. You do know she's neurologically fragile, don't you?"

Maria grimaced, "shit. This is Bisho?"

"Uh, yeah!"

"Damn. Well, that explains it. Sorry, Clint, she got her tongue in my mouth and her hand… well, I don't mind a good feel up in the lady's once in a while, but damn, buy me dinner first and maybe ask, you know?"

Clint pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes until he saw stars and groan-growled. "What are you even doing here?"

"Stark invited us. Weird, right?"

She was mostly a white splotch when Clint looked down at her. "Stark?!"

A similar strain of that question was bouncing around two doors and several hallways away.

"You invited him?" Steve's voice was straining not to disclose his disbelief. Arms tightly crossed as he stood between Stark and Fury, it was pretty obvious he was struggling with the situation.

Tony simply shrugged his entire body. "Uh, yeah… I thought you'd like that, Steve, the openness, transparency, all that stuff you were mad about me not employing with this situation so far." There was not a more smug tone available for that man to use, so pleased with himself he was.

Steve's jaw tensed. The whole room tensed, really. He eventually turned to Nick, in a tight swivel. "No offense meant to you, Nick, but… Tony. Fury and what's left of S.H.I.E.L.D. are not the ones I meant we should be open with, which I know that you know with the recent history we've all endured."

Tony pulled at his ear, feigned ignorance at Steve's implication. "The recent history I recall banked on their knowing what was going on with--"

"And whose fault was that, Tony?!" Steve snapped, but immediately recomposed himself. "The lack of openness I meant was problematic is your decision to make it your decision when to disclose a global threat and your solution to it."

"Hmm… okay. Point taken, but you should have been more clear. We're from different times, some phrases don't carry across… I suppose now would not be the best time to tell you I invited Hill, too… and Thor's Scandinavian Bill Nye. They should be around here somewhere…" Tony glanced around the room, catching Steve's glare like a bullet. "What?! I thought, hey, who's good at dealing with world issues? Nick and Maria! And who's good with weird cosmic hoohah? Dr. Selvig! Sorry for trying to help--ah!"

As Steve dragged Tony out of earshot by the collar to have a not-so-private private argument, Natasha edged over to Nick. "Thanks for the heads up. We could've had drinks…"

Fury rolled his eye. "I thought he'd have told you. Don't know why… who's the dumbass idealist now?"

Natasha scoffed, a quip on her lips, when her phone buzzed. She cleared the airspace access as requested, but had lost her witty response. Instead she gave a grimace and assessed the room. "Well, since Stark's already burst the 'no plus one' bubble, I suppose now's as good a time as any… I wish they weren't already fighting."

"You bring a surprise, too?"

"Yeah, two. The first'll be here in a few minutes… Now, where's Clint?" Phone dialed but went straight to voicemail. A text buzzed back almost immediately. It did not instill confidence.

_Had problem. Handling it. Don't come help._

Fury leaned over her shoulder to read it and snorted. "What's new?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "I shudder to think how he's handling it if he doesn't want me there…"

There was, indeed, a reason to not have Natasha in that bathroom at that moment. It wasn't how Clint was handling it, though. It was how Tessa was, or wasn't rather. There was a secret worry, right in the back of Clint's mind, that her eyes might pop out of their sockets soon if she didn't calm down.

"B--but, I didn't mean--oh, fuck! I'm just--just so, so sorry! I came in here… I knew it was going to happen. I thought I'd be alone and no one would... Oh God, I ca--can't believe… I… I… I…"

She reminded him of a robot that was short-circuiting. It was because she was reacting like this to just him and Maria witnessing her disinhibition that he told Nat to keep away. Tessa would have hated Natasha seeing her like this as well and that would have made her reaction that much worse. Her eyes probably would have actually exited her skull.

"I--I--I really--I really can't apologize enough. My condition--I have a problem with-- there--there are moments when I'm not in control-- I'm just really sorry for molesting you…" Her voice finally relaxed, her head dropped. She was crying now.

Maria frowned at Clint and then patted Tessa on the head like she would a rabid animal. "No hard feelings, kid. Sorry I conked you." She cleared her throat and stepped towards the door. "I think I should go now…"

"You think?!" It was just a whisper. Tessa didn't seem to hear it, struggling to stifle her tears as she was. Maria did, though. She winced and then mouthed another apology as she slipped out. With her gone, Clint turned to returning Tessa to earth. This wasn't as bad as she thought, it was just a thing that happened. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Just a thing that happened? That wasn't comforting or particularly informative.

So, he talked to her the way he would himself. "Okay, this looks bad. We both know it, might as well put it out there up front. But trust me, this kinda shit blows over. And… and you know Maria? She meant no hard feelings. This? Believe me, it pales in comparison to the shit she's seen. Okay?"

"Really?" Her eyes were puffy but she'd composed herself pretty quickly.

"Oh, yeah," Clint nodded, maybe a little too enthusiastically. "Yeah. She probably won't remember this by tomorrow, to be honest."

"Really?"

Another nod. "I once saw her punch a bear like she was mailing a letter. Her life is very exciting."

She was almost completely normalized at this point. It was like she'd flipped a light switch. The only thing she wasn't doing was making eye contact, which… was understandable. There were plenty of people who'd Clint would never look in the eye again after what they'd seen him do. He pushed that thought aside and cleared his throat.

"Want a hand up?"

Tessa accepted his help with a nod, standing and straightening her clothes. "I would like to pretend this didn't happen," she mumbled eventually.

"Sounds perfect to me," Clint scoffed. "How I live most of my life to be perfectly honest. … You ready to go back?"

Tessa finally met his eye. "Yeah. I don't need to pee anymore."

Clint laughed, the tension broken, and helped her hobble out of the bathroom. By the time they made it back to the meeting room people were shouting over one another and at least one chair had been kicked over somehow. Tessa leaned heavily on Clint's arm as the hubbub hit them, still winded by Hill's sleeper shot. Clint was inclined to just sit down in the back with her. But just then he picked out Sam Wilson shouting something that he agreed with.

"--if we're ever gonna get around to actually seeing this thing Stark's got us all up each other's butts about?"

Tony, yelling at Steve and Rhodes from atop a chair, took a break to swivel around and look scornful. "Wilson? Since when were you even… here…" That gall evaporated as Tony's face dropped. He wasn't looking at Sam anymore. "Oh. Oh, no. I did _not_ invite you."

"As if you would have the rational wherewithal to do so," came the sonorant response from the far back of the room.

Beside Clint, Tessa jumped a little, joining in with the shared gasp of everyone else in the room. Except Clint, who snorted. He knew that voice, knew that haughtiness that could snuff out Tony's in a word. It was hard to forget even if you'd only heard it once or twice. The doctor was in.

"And I assume the same nonprobability is why you did not lead with the introduction of the entity herself, whose destiny you are deciding along with your own. That is the question you were asking in essence, is it not, Mr. Wilson?"

"Uh… not… really…" Sam muttered as the figure now dominating the attention of the room cut his way across it.

He stopped at Nat, unfolded his hands from behind his back, and extended one to her. "A pleasure to finally meet you officially, Ms. Romanova. And thank you for inviting me."

Nat gave her silkiest smirk. "Likewise, I'm glad you're here." She leaned around him to pull a more stinging one for Stark.

He was practically puffing up like a threatened blowfish up there in his chair. "Seriously, Natasha--"

She cut him off. "As though I could stand by and let you play with mystical forces without calling in the mystical forces expert--sorry Wanda, you're still a novice. Everyone, Dr. Stephen Strange."

Wanda, who had been notably silent along with the Vision to the side of the room, assessed Strange a little apprehensively. "There is no offense here."

He returned her examination and, excusing himself from Natasha, moved towards the front of the room. "I would like to speak with you later, Ms. Maximoff, at your leisure," he said to her quietly as he passed. Everyone could hear him, though. No one was paying attention to anyone else.

Tessa tried tenaciously to move out of his way to the point that she practically merged with the wall behind her. Strange noticed her all the same, casting an eye her way but nothing else. He was bee-lining for Tony, as he should have been. Once he was out of earshot, Tessa reemerged from her 2D form.

"Strange indeed… wow," she whispered as he pulled Tony down from his pedestal to the side and began angrily muttering down at him.

"No, that's actually his name…" Clint whispered back, wondering how long Tony would be allowed to roll his eyes and pull faces before Strange poofed them into some other dimension.

"Okay… can anyone say self-fulfilling prophecy? He's… unsettling."

"Being involved in less…mainstream things will do that to a person."

"Who is he?"

"He's… uh… well, he's called the Sorcerer Supreme."

"He's a _wizard?!"_ She could not have looked any more surprised. "Like, seriously?"

"The top wizard, yup. You'll get to a place where that isn't so hard to believe eventually. Just hope he doesn't… just hope he keeps his magic to himself. You don't want him to prove it." He paused, smirked over at her. "Why did you think Wanda's codename was Scarlet Witch?"

Tessa swayed a little bit on Clint's arm. "I mean… I guess it's not that unbelievable. After the cricket aliens and… and… all that stuff, magic isn't that much of a stretch… but, yikes…"

Just then Stark stepped back and said, full voice, "hey, it's not my fault she came to me for help and not you, Houdini."

His little display worked, causing Strange's face to drop, sending him stalking towards the exit with lips pressed together and hands folded tight behind him. "I am going to examine the entity, if you would like to assist," he directed to Wanda quietly on his way out. She followed without hesitation, the air in the room loosening as the door closed, literally.

"Okay," Stark scoffed, "now that the divination kids are out for recess, the science adults can finish our grown-up, real-world solution talk. Man, can you believe that guy started out as a neurosurgeon? Pssh."

"Why wasn't he brought in on my case?" Tessa asked under her breath, tugging Clint's sleeve. She had a little crinkle between her brows, like she was offended at the oversight.

"Can you seriously see Tony calling him in to consult?"

"No… but Nat, or you, could have," she mumbled quietly and crossed her arms, leaning away from him. Then, her eyes widened to bathroom-panic size again. "Di--did you see that? That man… just… appeared…"

"Ahem." Cloaking device disengaged, Clint was able to see the other surprise guest Tessa was struggling to believe existed. He would be Natasha's doing, too, no doubt. "Do you also see fit to mock those of us who unite the mystic and the scientific? Who see the two as poles of the same sphere. Would you deign to consult us, to consider seriously what we would have to say? What about the rest of the world, Stark? This is a world guardian. Should not the world be consulted? Or are you, one man, representative of the whole world with your gargantuan ego?"

The air went out of Tony. "How did he get in here without us knowing?" That question was pointed at Natasha with an accompanying glare.

She shrugged. "Case in point that his input will be worth having. King T'Challa of Wakanda, for those who don't know. And his are all valid questions and important issues to be considered. We needed different perspectives on this, Stark, besides your well-intentioned, though pride-blinded, one and ours, which you don't heed or apparently consider valuable. Strange and T'Challa can provide a small portion of them, all that we can muster for now. I'm still waiting for answer from Asgard as well as from the specialists from a couple hundred nations, many of which I assume now believe me to be delusional or a liar. You think you could condescend to take their opinions under advisement at least? Or are you so megalomaniacal that you can't even do that?"

Natasha let her arms fall to her side, the small twump of them against her legs the only sound in the room. Stark was reeling, no doubt searching for the right scathing comeback. T'Challa simply scanned the rest of the room. Everyone else was waiting to see what they would do. This group was crazy in need of some organization, some agreement on leadership that wouldn't be internally undermined. Good luck with that while Tony was around.

Steve leaned to mutter something into Sam's ear. The Vision began to hover. Rhodes sat in the chair behind him with a loud sigh. Tony opened and shut his mouth a few times but just ended up looking constipated. Finally, T'Challa shook his head and headed for the door.

"I will examine this entity now as well. I hope to confer with you on this further, once you have adjusted your perspective on things." As T'Challa left the room, so did everyone else. Steve patted Tony on the back and was followed by him, for once in a silence that did not exude passive-aggressive petulance.

As the meeting room emptied, its contents filtered into the lab, Wanda found her conversation with Strange cut short. He gave her a short nod at the first sign of interruption and her desire to move aside. "We may continue this discussion later, perhaps."

She left the arguing to them. Her place was not yet laid out for her, things not clear. She preferred not to make that mistake again. It cost dearly. With Aristo pulled out into the spotlight and Vision still offering advice to the rest, Wanda found herself alone. She remained by the reality stasis chamber of her and Vision's creation. She watched the issue under discussion ebb and wax without their attention. They would glance Her way, but Her readouts were on nonexistent screens, available from Vision directly. There was something uncanny about it. Only Strange had considered Her, there, in the chamber, but he had moved away now, too. Shook his head and argued about floating numbers and words. An odd magic, a cold one.

Wanda liked it near Her. It was comfortable, like a well-worn jacket. Sometimes she even caught a familiar scent, a breeze that wasn't really there. This was how it should feel, the magic, rooted and living. Wanda resisted the urge to follow the sunny path to a day many years before that She laid out in a soft purple thread. As much as they discussed Her, the others forgot this, that She was conscious. Like the Sorcerer Supreme had murmured, disappointment in his voice, they overlook that it is also Her choice, Emeoune's. Stark didn't even listen to Her enough to find out Her actual name. Not Mnemosyne, Emeoune. She was reaching out with sweet days, warm memories, trying to comfort Wanda.

"She's beautiful." She hadn't noticed Tessa approached, wrapped up in Emeoune. "Like undulating starlight."

Wanda smiled, watching as Emeoune brightened, strengthened even at the compliment. Or maybe it was Tessa's mindfulness. "She likes you."

"I can't imagine why," Tessa tittered nervously in response. "But, she's incredible, I hope we can find a way to help her… and work together…" She stared deeply into the swirl of Emeoune, but her inner eye was elsewhere, preoccupied.

"Yes, I believe you hope that… but this is not what is on your mind." Wanda nodded across the room, where the Captain and Natasha stood apart, heads together, talking quickly and quietly. "You hope more to know her mind, to know where you stand."

There was what felt like a gentle reprimand from Emeoune and Wanda found Tessa tugging at her hair. She was upset. "Th--that obvious, is it?"

"It… it is the way you think, it dominates your thoughts. That is all…" Wanda paused, finding old strings, pulling them, becoming entangled in knots. She shook herself from Tessa's mind, regretful at having chided her, even as lightly as she did. "But, after what happened to you… I cannot blame you. There is peace in--"

"What is it that happened to you, Dr. Bisho?" Vision had joined them, tiring of the pointless arguing. He adjusted his introduction at the awkward silence that followed. "Please, excuse my curiosity. I have looked forward to making your acquaintance."

"No, no, it--it's nothing… nothing to excuse. Uh… yes, sorry, nice to meet you. Both of you, but I--I--I have to go." Wanda had made a mistake. Tessa was far more fragile than she had foreseen, mentioning a secret of hers had spooked her. She moved her limbs in a way that made very little sense and then skittered off towards the archer.

Vision touched down from his hover. "Did I make a social blunder?"

"No," Wanda breathed deeply, trying not to laugh at his ignorance. "No, it was my blunder. Tessa's past is full of brambles, not our business. I should not have tried to trim them back."

"Then, let us hope that it does not stay with her, that she can… trim on her own." He still struggled at times with metaphors.

Wanda shifted onto her other foot, felt for the weight of that chance. Another disappointment. "I have a feeling she will not be so fortunate."


	6. Blunders Abound

The day was one of those that just felt off. The air seemed just a bit too thick, tasted a little too much like industrialism. Everything was like it had been tilt shifted half an inch to the left. None of the socks were a match, the alarm clock was farther away than you remembered it being, everything you did was inexplicably three minutes late. Just off.

Never a good way to start a day. Days like that always ended up going wrong. Jinxed. Maybe because you expected them to, maybe because the universe was fucking with you. Not good days. Five cups of coffee before lunch kind of days. Clint wanted another cup of coffee. Hell, just a whole pot would've done it.

Of course, today was the day that Kate decided to do the thing she was doing on the other end of the line. Just one of those days. That also explained why Clint was pretty sure a bird had just crapped on his head.

"Are you serious? I step out on the balcony for eight seconds to take a damn phone call--"

"Clint?! Are you even listening? I'm asking you real, serious questions."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm listening," he mumbled back, pulling the underside of his shirt up to wipe it off. Yep. Bird shit. Just great.

"Great, because this is important. You told me you would fill me in when you got back from where ever you went, right when you got back, as soon as you could. That was seven months ago! And now there's some other super-secret thing that you can't tell me about but that you say is making it necessary that I stay under the Avengers' radar indefinitely? Like, what the fuck does that even mean? I'm Hawkeye, too. And I'm an adult. You can't just tell me what to do."

"Katie. Stop. I'm just trying to keep you out of this mess, alright? It's better if you're not even a little involved. Trust me. This is not a happy place to be. This is not a fun situation. Just looking out for your best… interests…" Clint paused his pacing and pulled up his foot to look at the sole of his shoe. Gum.

"Really? Because it barely sounds like you're actually having this conversation with me right now. Where are you these days, Clint? What's been going on? I'm getting worried. Ever since you lost--"

"I'm fine. Everything's fine, Kate. I'm dead serious now. Leave it alone. Stop prying and stop using my log in to go through the team files, all right? I know you're doing it." He'd sat down, started trying to scrape the gum off the bottom of his shoe with a random stick. Who even chewed bubblegum in the Tower? And who would just spit it out on the balcony? He wanted to go home, get a fresh suitcase of clothes, not sleep in Stark's astronaut beds for just one night. Get away from the place.

"Oh, you can pay attention to that, huh? Well, tell me, Clint. Who is Meneno-blah-blah, huh? And what the frick is going on with this new girl? It's like things are spinning out of control. Worse than usual."

The stick broke, a splinter flying into his face, the rest staying lodged in the gum. The gum stayed put on his shoe. "Argh! Just--ah, Kate. It's Stark's problem, okay? He's messing with big celestial mumbo jumbo and we're all scrambling to make things right."

"Oh, is that what was going with the robot apocalypse everyone seems to be treating like a bad nightmare?"

"No, that was an entirely separate, though uncomfortably similar set of circumstances--look, sit tight, Kate. I'll let you know when things can go back to normal. When they are, we'll catch up. Sound good?"

"Uh, no? No, that does not sound good. Things are never going to be normal. Do you think I'm an idiot? Tell me, since when are there Avengers in-training, running around the city, nabbing baddies? And why am I not on that email list? I'm so out of the loop it's driving me up the wall!"

"It's nothing personal, Kate. That's just… another thing we have to deal with because--"

"Just another thing? Be more vague! That's it, Clint. I'm coming to Stark's building, so we can talk in person."

"No--oof!" Clint slipped from trying to wipe the gum onto the edge of the railing, ended up on his back. "No, Kate. Absolutely do not come here! Things are not good here! That would be like throwing gas on a fire. We can hardly even talk about daily reports without starting a civil war."

"I don't know what you're talking about. YOU CAN EXPLAIN IT TO ME WHEN I'M THERE."

"Kate, no--" There was no more convincing her not to come. The line was dead. "F--fuuUUUCK!" The phone went flying. It shattered beautifully against the smooth exterior of the building. Like a 3D Jackson Pollock made of plastic and silicon. Clint sighed and crawled over to pick up a sliver of it. Maybe it would last long enough to unstick the gum from his shoe.

"Bad time?"

Clint wondered how long Tessa had been peering out from the glass door. She looked like she'd seen enough. He finally dislodged the gum from his shoe and stood, hurling it and the shard of his phone as hard as he could from the balcony. "Naaah," he wiped the rest of his frustration from his face, tried to be chipper for her. "Kid just gets under my skin sometimes. You'll probably meet her soon, find out why. What's going on, Tess?"

She slipped out from behind the door. "I, uh… I was just going to ask about… uh… about… so, do you know what's happening? With the whole… mystical guardian argument thing?"

That was very clearly not the thing she came out there to ask about. Clint let it ride. "God, Tess, I haven't got the foggiest fucking clue. Like I was trying to explain to Katie, shit is a tinderbox here. It's amazing that we're still deciding small-time objectives as a team. No way we could actually talk about anything bigger than training exercises without shitting all over everyone else. So, the jury's still out. I think it's only because the big problem hasn't actually come to a head yet. Thank god that glowing ball of goop hasn't faded away yet. … Are you doing alright with your end of things?"

"Oh… the tests… the tests I'm used to. It's the strained silences that have me… weirded out."

"Distrust and irreconcilable differences…"

"I thought having outside opinions, you know, third parties to mediate would help… but not so much… It all… it all just sounds like a recipe for divorce," Tessa mumbled, tugging at her sleeves. "Uh, did a bird crap on you?"

Clint scoffed, "yeah. Great, isn't it?"

"Fits with the day," Tessa answered, holding out a handkerchief. Why in the world she had a handkerchief Clint couldn't explain. He just appreciated it and the fact that he wasn't the only feeling that way. "Fits with the past few weeks, really. I wish we hadn't had that big meet up. Ignorance really is bliss sometimes."

"Also what I was trying to tell Kate. Maybe you should just talk to her for me. So, what's really got you out here? I know you didn't hunt me down just to ask me about something you probably know just as well as me."

"Oh, you know… I was just… checking on the… just checking if our field observation was still on this afternoon. I know Strange is here again today, so maybe I was going to have to… yeah… but… I, uh, I like getting away from the Tower…"

"To escape the boiling unrest? Yeah, me too. And yeah, we'll still be supervising Wanda and the Vision. But, that still wasn't what you wanted to talk about. Come on, you don't have to be shy. I am a judge-free zone." Please, he thought, let it be anything that wasn't about the crap they trudged through on a daily basis.

"Well…" She dropped her chin and kicked at some of the pieces of his phone.

"That's fine. You're not comfortable asking me, you don't have to. Just think about this, though: there is nothing you can say to me that will be worse than you seeing me running down the street last week in just one sock and my boxers. You remember. I was shooting putty arrows at those mimes. Literally nothing compares to that."

"The mimes were terrorists," she offered half-heartedly. The smile made it hard for her to seem sincerely serious about it.  

Clint shook his head. "That doesn’t make it better. But come one, if we learned anything from the Upstate shit show, it's that being open from the beginning is the way to go. Makes for a better work environment, I'm sure. Probably. Time to test that theory, now, maybe."

"Okay. So, my question, the one that I have to pose to you, is a… question on a… personal matter. Not a matter personal to you. No, actually it doesn't really have anything to do with you, directly. Personal to me. But, it has to do with something that I feel you are the resident authority on and therefore can help me in my personal quandary. Although, I don't know, maybe you have personal experience in it and so would be more than ideal to answer. I don't know. So, to recap: it is not a work-related topic, it is not pertaining to you… exactly, but you are… the most qualified person to ask here. It's not what I think you're assuming it is. It's just a question that… is… pertinent… to my interests… as a human being. Probably best served by just asking you. And I am an idiot. Yes, I think that sums it up." She took a gulp of air, like a fish out of water. "You know, you're actually… you're biceps are very large."

Clint could sense her devolving into a disinhibition event. "That last part is pertaining to me. I bet it has nothing to do with your question."

"You're totally right. It doesn't. I'm just totally losing my mind because I'm a very private individual, and my interpersonal skills are among the lowest on record, and the question is very exposing, and therefore upsets the gossamer-thin grasp on normal conversational procedure that I have."

"You're doing fine. A little eccentric, but fine. What's the question? I'm actually kind of dying to know at this point."

"Do… you… thinkthatIhaveachancewithNatasha?"

Clint blinked. Trying to work out that last part was difficult. It was very fast and he was working on a hearing aid and lip reading, neither of which did particularly well with speed talking. On the other hand, he'd been expecting this.

"I think you just asked if I think you have a chance with Natasha, which is right on route with what I thought you would ask, by the way. I'm a failure at a lot of things, but I observe pretty well. Also, you asked faster than any person should ever talk to another human being, but I get it. You were nervous. And my answer to that is… uh, you came to the right person. Unless of course you figured Natasha into things, seeing as she would know best. Straight from… the horse's mouth, or whatever that horrible phrase is."

He crossed and uncrossed his arms, looking for the right way to break it to Tessa easy. He remembered the bird crap on his shirt a second too late. Tessa waited patiently, although she probably could've blinked more.

"If this had been any other day, I probably could've answered you more… uh… gently. But this is the best I've got right now: take it from me, we're both shit outta luck there."

Tessa tilted her head to the side, narrowed her eyes at him. Then she tilted the other way. "What… do you mean?"

"Uh…" Clint rubbed a hand over his face. He needed to shave. Also, probably should have washed that hand before smearing what was on it all over his face. "I've been where you're at. I've walked that road. It's a dead end. For everyone."

"I know that you're speaking metaphorically, but I'm not sure I understand. Could you expound?"

"Expound… expound… uh, yeah… okay. Look at it this way. You know how some people like… uh… chocolate ice cream, okay? And some people are more the vanilla type? And others are just like… only can think of eating strawberry? Right? And, uh… others like both. And some people aren't that picky about flavor. They like 'em all. Some want 'em all swirled into one Neapolitan tub, right? And then, there's the people that only like ice cream when it's with some pie, or only if it's a particular brand, or organic, or all of the above. And then, other people, who just don't dig ice cream. They like sorbet instead. Well, uh, Nat doesn't like any of those. At all. She's not big on… frozen… desserts. Did you happen to follow that?"

Tess was chewing on her lip. She looked somewhere between upset and perplexed. "I--I… maybe? Is--is she… uh… lactose-intolerant? I… I get that…"

Clint shook his head. "No, no… that's not it. She's just… not a fan… wait! Okay, let's try this one instead. There are dog people and cat people, yeah? And people who like… both--no. That was going in the exact same direction… there's no allergy, or bad childhood experience that put her off it… she… just doesn't go for cold… sweets… Just… just talk to Nat about it. Okay? She's much better at explaining, you know? 'Cause it's her business, and she's a good… talker. Unlike me. Apparently. … … I mean, she still likes fruit and milk and stuff… just… not… in that way… yeah." He hung his head, officially embarrassed by his ineptitude to talk about a pretty straightforward subject. "Just talk to her. And, Tess? Remember how back, uh, Upstate we decided to pretend things didn't happen? Let's, uh, let's add this conversation to the list, okay? That way we can work together on mission later and I won't feel compelled to put an arrow through my own hand…"

Tessa sucked in her lips, mashed her eyes together, and then sighed. It was like she'd pushed out all the air from her body in some final expiring event. "So, just to be clear… um, before we pretend neither of us said the things we just said. Um… I don't have a chance with her."

"As far as I know… no."

She looked up at the sky. It was a few tense minutes before she said anything else. "And nobody does."

"Nobody does. Correct."

"Because, she doesn't feel that way about people. Ever."

"Also correct."

"And the… the way she… she comes off? Like... uh... that particular component of her identity is not a... component of her identity... is actually just… a thing she does? A… uh, manipulative thing?"

Clint winced. "It's… you should really be talking to her, but yeah… it's part of her Black Widow persona. Very… uh… effective."

"Convincing, yes. Well, at least it isn't about me, like all the other horrible romantic shit choices I've made have been. So there's that. Okay, Clint. I'm ready to pretend this didn't happen. That training session, it's at three, right? I can bring a pot of tea and my crocheting, right? Great. I'll see you then."

She was gone before he could get a word in. Clint felt like an asshole. There were a thousand ways he could have handled that better. But maybe since he was already in way over his head on just about every level of his life, instead he just added romantic advisor to that fail-list and pretty much crapped on Tessa's head. What a shitty fucking day.

Several hours later, several miles away, the day was not going so shabbily. It was full of bad news and crap and horrible things happening to people, but that was pretty normal. It helped that he was the one doing the crapping and the horrible things and making the bad news. And getting paid for it. Big day, big pay!

There were a few hours to spare before the truck he was expecting rolled through town--and exploded!-- so he took off for his favorite past time, spidey-watching. Except then, a distraction! One taco truck and a several dozen delicious fried treats later --Chimichangas! Shh, it's talking!-- a passing po-po-mobile announced a for sure super fun time. Pretty lady with scary red magic fingers and a flying robot were chasing gangsters and things were going boom! What a great show. Now, it was time to find a good spot to watch it all go terribly (and maybe still see Spidey!). What a great day!

It was pretty easy to figure out where the badda-bing badda-BOOM was happening. A bunch of dumbass potential collateral damage was gathered around it in the streets. Morons! All he had to do now was find a good, tall building that wasn't in the line of fire --because who wants to spend the afternoon digging out of rubble instead of making big trucks go WA-BOOM?! There was a nice big, steel-enforced puppy half a block away. It should have a perfect view and just happened to have a great fire escape that he could use for getting to the roof. Things were looking good. He had a song in his heart and a smile on his face, as he clambered up the stairs. Not that anyone could see that, but that was good news for everyone.

" _Now, I'm all about your face, 'bout your face. Big trouble. I'm all about your face, 'bout your face. Big trouble. I'm all about your face, 'bout your face. Big trouble. Now scoot that booty baaaa_ \--oh, a random bystander. What a wonderful happenstance. I was just hoping for someone to share the delights of this show with."

He skipped towards the lady sitting on the opposite edge of the roof, her legs dangling off. She was wearing the weirdest collection of clothing. So weird, it even made him pause. She also had a teapot wearing a sweater and some shiny hook sticks. Finally, someone he could relate to!

"'Sup, True Believer! You enjoying the ruckus?"

The lady turned to him, calmly looked him over. "That's a tight outfit."

"You mean tight as in, Yo! Awesome! Or tight as in it clings to my yummy bits?"

"Both, I guess," she shrugged a shoulder and turned back towards the street.

That was the calmest reaction he had ever received. He was wearing at least eleven visible weapons, two of them huge swords strapped to his back, and a big gash in his stomach, which had admittedly already healed, but that didn't make it look any less nasty. That and he was clearly famous. She didn't even give him a second glance.

Intrigued mightily, he sat down beside her, letting his feet swing off the edge like her. "So, you come here often?" She didn't respond so he just kept talking, like normal. "I like Spidey-watching as much as any other loser, but he's usually more downtown."

"Nope. Just where I need to be. Yippee for me."

"So… you're watching the imminent disaster unfold. Coolio bandito. I can dig that hardcore. So… hey, pretty lady, what are you doing up here?"

"Like you said, watching the imminent disaster unfold."

"Huh… super. Hey, aren't you scared? Random guy in a tight outfit loaded down with deadly weapons comes up all secret on you while you're alone…"

She looked up from the kicking, punching and blasting down below, looked at the clouds instead. Or maybe she was listening to her voice in her head talk. She even stopped with the hooked stick and string thing. "Yeah… no, actually. Huh. That may be because I've just had a truly shitastic day and this sort of thing just kind of fits with it. But, I suppose it's really because I know that, if you were a danger to me, that lady down there, shooting red scary out her fingertips? She'd be on your ass like stink on shit."

He cracked up at that. Stink on shit, words like that coming out of her little mouth in her sweet little voice? Perfection. She just went back to doing her thing as he laughed like that baby watching its mom eat chips on the TubeYou. "Ah, man. That's good… I like you, pretty lady. Don't pussyfoot around, do you?"

She looked over at him, gave a little grin. But it disappeared pretty quick. She shrugged and said, "I have inhibition problems, no filter a lot of the time for what I say and do. Tea?"

He looked down at the little cup with flowers on it she'd just pulled from a satchel beside her. Then back at her. "You're offering me a drink?"

"Well, I don't want you to bathe with it, if that's what you're worried about." She took his hand and put the cup in it.

What an adorable, little, funny lady. He chuckled to himself thinking bathing in the little cup. _She could totally wear a Deadpool outfit and keep up with you. With the mouth part. Probably not with the merc-ing._ "You're right, she totally could! You're great, pretty lady."

The pretty lady paused and then looked over at him. "Thank you."

"Mm-hmm. Thank you." He lifted his mask to take a drink of the tea she'd just poured and waited for her to lose her charm. Again, no reaction. Maybe she was blind… _No, she could see how tight his uniform was._ Neat! Time to see if he could scare her away another way! "You know I'm a mercenary. I'm dangerous. This tea crap is yummy!"

"Oh, I know. I've seen you on the news. You're a little erratic--"

_Ooo! She thinks you're sexy!_ He rolled his hips with gusto in agreement. "Damn right I am!"

"No, not erotic. Erratic. Random and unpredictable." She sounded like a teacher he once had. She was dead now, but he'd liked the way she helped him learn his letters. She always had crayons for him.

"Oh, yeah. That's true, too. You have any crayons?"

She smiled at him again. "Erratic doesn't bother me. Hold on, let me just check…" She looked through her little Mary Poppins bag. And had crayons! The good kind. "Here. I'm Tessa, by the way." She gave him the crayons but then held her hand out for him.

He should take it. _Shake her hand_. Such a tiny little hand. "I'm Wade." He finally took it, shook as gently as he could. She reminded him of one of those little dolls his mother had had that he'd gotten into so much trouble for breaking. They cracked so satisfyingly. He didn't want to crack her.

"Nice to meet you, Wade." She topped off his cup and then went back to hook-sticking.

Crayon in hand, Wade got started on his drawing. The truck was coming out really well when it suddenly occurred to him that it was absolutely necessary to know about the pretty lady's bad day. "What made your day so shitastic? Was it that you lost all your money hidden in some shell company called Hi and Low? Because that's my fault. That guy was just asking for it. You don't want to know what he did on his Thursday nights, little doll lady."

It sounded like she laughed, but she was looking at him funny. "Uh, no. Are you supposed to ask someone you just met something like that?"

"Fuck if I know," he snorted. Added a little blood spurt to the fire and mayhem. She had the good colors with her thankfully.

"So you're like me?" She was smiling when he looked up. It made her face squish up like a cabbage patch kid. He pinched her dimple like some old Aunt Myrtle. All she did was giggle. "Yeah, definitely like me."

"The life of the party?!"

"No, socially impaired…"

_What?! No. That was just silly._ "Uh, hell no! I'm great in public. I have the most captivating smile." He demonstrated while sipping his tea. He had expected a laugh, maybe finally the disgust he got from most people. But she only nodded, looking genuine and crap.

"You do have a great smile."

Wade didn't react for a minute. His head was all stunned silence. Then it was a billion things at once, the loudest was a question about her having Cosmo's best friend quiz on hand. She was a little treasure, like a brand new grumpy cat picture. He wanted to know all about her. Or, about five minutes of information about her.

"What'cha knittin'?"

"Crocheting, actually. It's a hat, see?" She held it up. It looked like it would soak up a lot of blood easily. "Just something to keep my hands busy."

"A hat…" It also looked nice and warm. That was important, where hats were concerned. That reminded him of something. Something to do with warm… clothes… _Oh! Ellie!_ He had an important question. "Could you do, like, real clothes?"

"Oh, I don't see why not."

He hopped to his feet. All that excitement and he couldn't keep sitting. "Awesome! I got this kid." He fished around for the little picture of Ellie he kept with him in his belt. "She's neato. And she's growing, like, crazy fast. Needs new winter stuff, but P--her mom won't take money… well, blood money from me… Could I pay you to make her some sweaters and stuff?"

She shook her head and Wade felt that little warm place in his chest fade. "You don't have to pay me." It warmed back up. "I do it for… fun. Or really to distract me from how miserably alone I am in life and just fucked up in general. Oh, no… just ignore me… Uh… You'll just have to find me to pick them up. They'll probably take a week or so."

Wade considered saying something like a granny would with a little kid that dropped their ice cream cone. That was called something. _Consoling_. Right, he thought about consoling her, because he knew those dark creeping thoughts. He couldn't think of anything to say, though, so instead he patted her head. "Thanks, pretty lady."

"No problem. And my name's Tessa. I like what you're doing, by the way, Wade. For your kid. Good for you."

He didn't have a joke for that. "Just doing the decent thing."

"Well, not everyone is up to that challenge. So again, good for you."

Wade did his best superman pose, basking in the warm and fuzzy for doing the right thing. Standing up there and gazing out onto the shit show below, he just so happened to notice the hot-tempered and gloriously biceped archer hauling ass towards their building. _Time to go_. "Uh-oh! Incoming Hawkguy. Looks crankier than normal."

Tessa stood with him. "You know each other?"

He set his cup into her hand and scooped up his drawing. "You could say that. Thanks for the tea and the crayons and the clothing. See you around, pretty lady!" He had crazy flammable cargo to set alight anyways.

The building Clint had set Tessa up on was a perfect vantage point, but it was a pain in the ass to get to from the building they had tracked the Gilbert brothers to. And that damn fire escape was covered in salsa now.

"Move faster, Barton! Who knows who the fuck could be up there with her? Don't want to destroy her emotionally and then get her hurt."

By the time he reached the roof whoever Wanda had sensed up there was gone. Tessa turned around and held up a hat. "Does this need a floofy foof on top?"

"Uh… what? Are you okay? Wanda said there was someone up here with you."

"Oh, yeah. There was. I made a friend."

Clint waited a beat. She offered no elaboration on that. He moved on. "Uh, random, but okay. Well, the brothers smoked out pretty easily. We're done. You ready to leave?"

She nodded and started packing her things up. Clint seriously considered not spoiling her fairly decent mood, but Tessa didn't do well with surprises.

"Good, because we're, uh, making new friends left and right today. Natasha's back and she brought our first new recruit. We'll meet them when we get back."

Tessa's whole body shivered, but she kept it under control. Her words were just a little more clipped, her face a little harder. "Just when I thought things were looking up… Uh… okay. Super. I can't wait. A great way to wrap up this _wonderful_ day."


	7. More Friends, More Problems

Jet lag was one of those things that could ruin even the most professional intelligence agent. Jet lag exponentially multiplied could make someone forget what mission they're even on, not to mention when they were supposed to x, y, and z. Natasha had been jet-lagged for what felt like several months. In actuality, it was probably only a few weeks, but jet lag made it seem impossible to tell for sure. She didn't know what time it was, or what day, or even what month. She did know it was autumn. But, that was only because she saw the leaves scattered over the ground in reds and yellows and browns.

Her constant travel destroyed her internal clock and made her, at times, question her sanity, but it did represent one positive. If the team was imploding or the world ending, she wouldn't have had the time or opportunity to go searching the world for Banner. He had been a no show, systematically out playing her in the locations chess match between them. That, or he didn't know they were looking for him and had gone so deep the 'clues' she had been following were just fabrications of her exhausted mind. She didn't want to look at it that way. They needed to find Banner. For Stark's sake, the team's sake, they needed to find Banner.

She hadn't been coming back empty-handed every time, however. Admittedly, the trip that brought them Jessica Drew had been a Steve side-mission. An old HYDRA science cell, some psychotic geneticists, and half a dozen experimentees had not once been privy to anything related to the Winter Soldier. It had, however, produced one victim of abuse with superpowers. Another to add to their list of wards and teammates in training. Jessica Drew was her own animal, that was for sure. Probably not a good influence on any other their various emotional issues and certainly not a good ingredient to throw into the mix with Tessa, but she still deserved to be look out for.

The Tessa situation. Drew most assuredly did not help the Tessa situation. What the psychotic geneticists managed with Drew was not what they had been planning. Mind control never truly turned out the way you expected. Manufacturing it in a person was a loose cannon. Trying to create a person with mind control abilities was, in a word, psychotic. They managed pheromone manipulation, which while not telepathy, was still devastatingly powerful, particularly when the wielder had no clue how to control it. Jessica Drew ended up being the most persuasive person she knew. And the most unhappy. Subtly influencing people's instinctual reactions just didn't elicit satisfactory relationships. Drew was beautiful, intelligent, and charming but, in her words, empty through and through. She'd been trained as a weapon and, as Natasha could understand easily, hated everything she ended up doing, hated herself.

Predictably, she wreaked havoc with the dynamic at the Tower. People couldn't think clearly around her, at best. At worst, she drove Tessa to disinhibition events with the slightest provocation. Natasha regretted that, but mostly that when the first instigation happened, Natasha hadn't been able to handle it better. Her Widow training had kicked in, had led her to do something she fundamentally did not want to do. She broke Tessa's heart.

Some hours and days before:

"Basically, all you need to do is say hello, shake some hands and then we'll get you set up in a room. Okay?"

"How about I skip all that and go straight to the getting set up in a room part?" Unfortunately for Drew, her persuasive tendencies were not so effective on Natasha.

"No, sorry. We at least have to get you set up with FRIDAY and it's best for trust if you meet the people you'll be sharing living space with."

"They don't trust me. Because of HYDRA."

"Essentially, yes. Right through here."

Jessica walked ahead as directed, shoulders back, chin high, hair shining down her back. Natasha had a twinge of foreboding. Drew was a siren she was throwing into a ship full of sailors lost at sea. She wouldn't harm them physically, but the emotional toll she could take might be worse.

"Everyone, meet Jessica Drew. She's had a long day, so introduce yourselves and move along." Natasha could taste the charge in the room.

Drew was nervous, her effect even stronger than normal. A few people said stupid things, things they would regret in a few seconds with a clear head. It was Tessa though that went haywire. Natasha had noticed her face first when they entered the sitting room. It had gone from dour to dreamy in under a second. The enamor lasted only a few moments longer before transforming into something much more aggressive. With everyone else in a kind of infatuation mire, that left only Natasha to intervene. Intervention was accomplished by only one tactic, throwing herself under the bus in the most convincing way possible.

She abandoned her no touch, no tease policy and went full seduction on Tessa. It worked immediately, too easily. "Tessa! I missed you! Come here, let's catch up." A bat of her eyes, an arm around her waist, and Natasha took the full brunt of Tessa's disinhibited attention.

"I missed you, too." Her voice was thick, pupils wide.

Natasha was able to get her into the hallway and out of sight before she did something in front of people that she would regret later. She hoped Tessa would see that bright side afterwards. "Jessica has a powerful pheromone response, Tessa. That's what's happening to you right now."

"No, I'm glad we're alone. I hoped Clint was wrong." She was very soft with her advances. That meant something that made Natasha feel even worse about this. There was something substantial behind the id-fueled impulses. All the same, it was as if she couldn't hear Natasha speaking to her, telling her she only did what she had because it was the most expedient way to remove her from the problem situation. "I think I'm falling in love with you."

There it was. The thing that made Natasha's eyes burn. She didn't want to hurt her. Now she had no choice. The kiss that followed was non-aggressive. Stopping it was easy. It only lasted half a second but it did more damage than all the faked moves Natasha had pulled through the years. It also promptly ended Tessa's disinhibition.

"I--I… oh, god." She took off, tears in her eyes. Natasha let her go. She would have to repair that bridge once Tessa cooled down and Drew was far, far away.

As it turned out, as she knew, repairing bridges was indescribably harder than burning them. It took so much more… everything.

"Isn't it exhausting? Never being real with everyone?" Tessa was only being spiteful because she was hurting. Natasha bore it without offense.

"Yes, it is. But, it's part of the life I've been saddled with. You make the best of what you have or you don't. I'm a survivor. I am sorry, Tessa, that this affected you. I tried to keep this from happening once I realized--"

"Yeah, but why do you do it? There's got to be a different way." She hadn't looked Natasha in the face the entire conversation. Instead she focused on a sweater she'd been making, or the sky above them. They both had stars.

"Because, as grim as it is, I operate for efficiency. Different situations require different solutions. That means different me's, since I am the solution. It's adapted, a reflex now."

"But it's not really you."

"No. It's not," Natasha sighed. "The real me… is hardly what situations like those require. I make do."

"Does anyone know the real you?" It was quiet, her question, muffled by sniffles and a hand.

"A few people. The ones who see why, not how or what I do. My friends."

"Then, I guess I should have started paying better attention earlier. Saved myself the mistake."

Now:

That had been the last conversation Natasha had been able to have with Tessa before she'd gotten another hit on Banner. She really hadn't wanted to leave things like that. Natasha was not the person Tessa hoped her to be. She wasn't going to love her in the way she wanted, or needed, or deserved, but that didn't mean she didn't care about her. Breaking her heart figured among Natasha's regrets. Now, she was determined to find a way to mend it.

As far as she could tell, that meant giving Tessa her space for the time being. Sadly for both of them, that was not possible in the imminent future. They both had to put their problems aside at that moment, to focus on the task at hand. Tessa probably already had. She'd been on the scene, it was Natasha who was rushing in late.

Jet lag made it feel like half past two in the morning, but the sun was high in the sky and the world was bright. Bright and loud and screaming. As soon as she touched down the quinjet she heard the noise of panic. The building one over was half rubble. The damage from a butcher knife being used to excise a splinter. Wanda should not have been on the street, not while she was still learning to control herself. But that was yet another worry for Natasha to push aside for later. Right now, she had to work on getting Clint out of that building.

It was easy to find him. She could easily hear Kate Bishop shouting her panicked, impotent rage. It cut right through the sirens and rumble of emergency responders. They were holed up at the end of a hallway, in the middle of the still standing portion of the apartment complex. Kate was pacing, yelling, as Natasha could now make out, about stupidity. Tessa was there too, much quieter, covered with blood and straddling Clint's chest. Natasha hoped that wasn't all Clint's blood.

"Where are they?" She asked, jogging toward him. If Clint responded like she hoped he would, that would put her mind at ease in two ways.

As expected, he struggled to sit upright. Tessa pushed him back down, with Natasha's help, and went back to pressing Clint's shirt into his stomach. "They're back at the Tower. But, Nat, it wasn't their fault."

"Well, it sure as hell wasn't helped by psycho mcmagic pants! Stupid!" Kate's voice was starting to break with stress and over use. "What were you thinking? You're just a guy with some pointy sticks that fly!"

"Shut up, Kate! I'm taking care of this." Clint tried to lean up on one elbow to glare at her. That was promptly put to a stop when Tessa flicked him on the nose.

"Stay still. I'm trying to stop the bleeding. I think. Oh, god, Natasha… we can get him out of here, right?"

"Yes, absolutely. What happened?"

"Some stupid kid thought it was funny to shoot him with their dad's gun while we were evacuating the building!" Bishop was just barely keeping it together.

Natasha took the gun from her and knelt down beside Tessa. Small caliber, that was the good news. All the same it had clearly done its job, now to determine just how well. It was hard going seeing anything in the big red swath. "Is… is the bullet still--"

"No, it went through…" Tessa's eyes were wide. She had blood smeared over her forehead. "Is--is that bad?"

"No, it's going to be fine. Tessa, put all your weight on that wound. Bishop, help me get the stretcher. Clint. Stay the fuck still. Okay?!"

"Yeah, yeah, okay, Nat. I'll just bleed here. On a carpet that's never been cleaned. Ever."  

Luckily, Clint's self-degrading humor held out all the way back to Dr. Cho's operating table. But even with her truly impressive cellular repair technology, Helen was in for a busy afternoon. She didn't anesthetize for her procedures, so she was also in for an earful. Clint was getting back some of his vigor for self-hate just within the first few minutes of the blood transfusion.

"I've always figured I'd be gunned down. That I'd kick the bucket on the wrong side of a great shot. Just never thought that a twelve year old in a Spider-man t-shirt would be the one to do it."  

"Hush," Natasha said, slapping his hand from picking at his IV's. "You're not dying. Not even close."

"And it wasn't a great shot," Tessa added on the other side of the bed, letting Cho dig glass and rubble out of her arms and hands. "He was aiming for your gut, but the kickback knocked his front teeth out and ended up putting the bullet through your shoulder."

"Yes, thank you, Ms. Literal. Can't you let me wallow in the shame of being put on my ass by a fetus? Kate would let me wallow."

"That's a lie. It's why we sedated her." Bishop had been spiraling. They'd decided that some rest would help get her back on her feet. At that moment, she was drooling all over her arm and hair. "She might have given you a hard time herself, but not let you stew in it."

"Besides, there's no shame in what actually happened. I mean, there'd been an explosion. We were evacuating people. The kid was scared and when we opened the door, he tried to protect himself. All you quote-unquote did was stand in a hallway in anticipation of helping a person on the other side of the door. The child didn't even let the door open all the way before squeezing that trigger. Ouch." Tessa clenched her eyes shut as the debriding brush ran over her arms.

"You could have had your armor on, though." Why Clint had thought wearing just a cotton shirt would suffice that day, Natasha would never understand.

"Nah. It was a small time thing. I was supposed to just be observing. Hey, you think we can salvage that shirt? It's one of my favorites."

Natasha held it out in front of her. "Unless blood tie-dye and bullet holes are a new aesthetic, I'm thinking no."

"Aw, shirt."

"You felt the slug go through your body, Clint. Why in the world would you have ever expected it to be wearable after that? Especially considering how long it's taking to treat the wound."

He frowned at his fingers wiggling through the hole. "I don't know? You patch things like this, right?"

"Not so much."

"You've never patched clothing in your life have you, Clint?"

"No. I just wear 'em with the holes."

"That's just sad."

"That's Clint. Wallowing when he can. He's self-indulgent like that." Natasha gently pried the rag from his hands and tossed it aside. "You can't pity him, that just fuels it."

"I won't. I'll be too busy feeling bad for myself." Tessa stood to join them, gingerly inspecting her freshly cleaned and sealed skin. She would probably still have scars from that trauma. "We could have been better prepared, though. It was all kind of rash, rushing in there on the fly. The building could have fallen in on us."

"Rash is his middle name."

"Okay, okay, but there were people in there--"

"We didn't say you shouldn't have tried to save them. We said it could've been done smarter."

Clint was just about to respond when Cho shot him with some heavy duty pain killer and shooed Natasha and Tessa away. "Now, you're both cleared-- Tessa, don't pick at it-- so I'm kicking you out. I'm good but I'm not magical. He has to rest to finish recovering, and we know he won't with you here egging him on. So, out."

That left Natasha and Tessa alone in the hallway. All of a sudden, there was nothing out-prioritizing their problem. It hadn't resolved any during their emergency teamwork. So, they stood a foot and a half farther apart from each other than normal people would, not talking, but also not leaving. Tessa looked like she was trying to say something, but then again, she could have also just been trying to keep something to herself. Natasha decided to save them both the awkwardness of dancing around the elephant in the room and to apologize.

"Tessa, I know that you must be feeling wronged, probably betrayed. I want to tell you I'm sorry, again. And you did a great job today. Probably saved Clint's life." She waited, watching the tic in Tessa's mouth. She was deliberately not responding, against her strongest impulses. Natasha continued, hoping she wasn't pushing her limits too far. "I also wanted to ask if you would still be comfortable with me as your debriefing mediator. I hope that we can continue to work together, but I understand if the trust between us has--"

Tessa scoffed and turned away. "Sure, Natasha. We can continue being co-workers. I'm going to take some time before debriefing today's incident, though. Find a way to get the smell of blood out of everything."

A failed attempt a reconciliation. And what did Natasha expect? She had approached it like a mission, instead of like consoling a friend. She would have to do a better job tomorrow. For now, Tessa had been on the right track. It was time to wash the blood off. It had been a long day, a hard one. Clint was still under Cho's observation. Natasha couldn't leave the Tower that night. Her bag was still in the quinjet and, unfortunately, she didn't realize that until she stepped off the elevator on the residential floor. With a sigh, she called the car back and rode to the hangar. Another fifteen minutes wearing her worst nightmare.

By the time Natasha had removed any trace of blood from herself and her uniform, it was well after sundown. Dinner didn't appeal to her, so she put on the radio and tried to take her mind out of overdrive. No easy task on a daily basis, tonight, settling her thoughts was an ordeal. Regret was a staple gnat for her conscious, but that didn't make swatting just one more any less difficult. When the knock sounded at her door, Natasha knew that night would be one spent in vigil, lighting candles to her own god.

Tessa looked no less at ease that evening, though presumably for a different reason. She was wearing a shirt they'd taken from the hospital, one of the few. Her hair was still wet, face scrubbed raw. She had probably undergone the same ritual of lustration as Natasha, the same intensity. Fiddling with the sleeves covering her hands, Tessa spoke to Natasha's knees.

"I would have gone to Clint… but… a--and Jess is on a case… so…" She shrugged, clearly still struggling with having come there.

Natasha opened her door wider, stepped aside. "Of course, Tessa. Please, come on in. I'll put on a pot of tea." She left the door open as she readied the kettle, made up the pot, grabbed a bottle of vodka. Tessa was inside, the door closed, when Natasha turned back around. She stood still, eyes on the photographs Natasha kept there.

"You've changed your hair a lot," she commented quietly. "Must come with the territory."

"It does."

Tessa finally looked up, to inspect Natasha's hair. "But you always come back to this, red and curly."

"It's how I prefer it, natural."

"I don't know how I prefer my hair." She tugged at the pieces around her ears, the strands still plastered wet to her face. "You know, I used to think my biggest problem was my memory. I was wrong. That's just…something that I have. A tool, I guess, that requires a careful, tireless hand. … … A--and then, when I moved here, I thought it was the disinhibition. While it doesn't help matters, it's not the root of it. It isn't my biggest problem. The big one, the one that really leaves me high and dry all the time is the fact that I don't know who I am."

She paused to look at a scrap of paper she'd taken out from her sleeve. Natasha recognized it as the framed noted, the one personal possession Tessa had brought with her. The kettle whistled. Tessa continued as Natasha sat at the table between them.

"I don't recognize myself here compared to who I was back at the hospital. Even though I still have a presence there, it's like… it's like it's a different person doing my--that job. I don't know if that was really me, or this is. I've switched places and problems and now I don't know which was--is true to me. I don't… I don't think I have any idea what is true to who I am, because I don't think I have an identity outside of my problems. Or a personality. Whichever I'm dealing with the most defines me. I'm the test subject with an inhuman memory. I'm the asset with control issues. And that's how I act in regards to myself. So… so… that leaves me wondering: what does that make me? My diseases?"

This was the longest Tessa had ever spoken on anything that Natasha knew of. She set aside her urge to set her mind at ease with the facts and decided just to listen. Tessa needed this, wherever it was leading. So, she poured the tea and passed it her way as Tessa flopped into her chair. An extra slosh of vodka made it into their cups.

"Clint said something before you got there. Something I couldn't stop thinking about. He said that he always let his own shit beat him. I thought at the time that that meant he got in his own way, but now I think it's more than that. He meant he lets his problems have more of an effect on him than he should… I--I don't know what he thinks his problems are. They're something that he deals with. I know that he's a great marksman, maybe the best, and he uses that to help people. The things he does follow that route, problems get in the way of that. That's not how my life works. I follow my problems' routes, instead of working through them to be something else. What am I doing here? Employing one problem while being led around by the nose by another. If I had died today, what would have been said in the obituary?"

She sipped the tea, eyes far away. That was not a question she wanted answered for her.

"I--I was trying to sleep earlier, and do you know what I saw when I closed my eyes? Clint bleeding on the ground beneath me. I couldn't get away from that moment. I was that moment. Maybe because I wasn't anyone, anything in the actual moment. I was so useless, sitting on his chest, pretending to be anything but dead weight. A problem crushing him while pretending to solve his, to save his life."

"But you did save his life, Tessa. I meant that earlier."

She shook her head. "I didn't do anything. I just sat there, engrossed in my own issues. I stopped the bleeding because when he fell, he pulled me with him. I ended up in that position, torn between my problems. … Yeah, torn between _my_ problems. Not his. His were a complication I was dealing with. The fact that he was possibly bleeding out became secondary to me. In that moment, within the eight seconds of him getting shot and the screaming starting, something in me clicked and said, oh no, if this doesn't work out, I'll never be able to straddle him properly. I leaned on the wound with his shirt, once he ripped it off, and thought, I need to stop this bleeding so I can straddle him again properly. ... Ugh. That's sick."

There was still blood under Tessa's fingernails. She picked at it, grimacing as she continued spilling her soul. "An--and the other half tugging at me was collapsing into a memory, becoming what I'd seen in the hospital when I saw a GSW nearly bleed out on a table. I played the role of nurse as seen previously. I was a memory and an instinct, neither my choice. … … … I--I--I … I don't think I actually feel that way about Clint, as a future hook up, or just some guy with a hole in his chest… but how would I know? I don't know if I'm even capable of having feelings, making judgments distinct from my problems, that aren't from my problems. I … don't know how to exist except through my problems. I don't know what I like or where I fit. I'm having an existential crisis, I think. I remember reading about that. … And right now, it's taking all my willpower not to make a move on you. Absurd. It's a cycle… triggered by… everything. I operate through one problem to another, memory to sex, sex to memory. I'm damaged, I'm problematic… I'm a freak.

"I guess, part of what I should be mad about, what I am mad about with you isn't about you. Not really. I was being an unsuspecting hypocrite, projecting my hatred of non…self… ness onto your… changing identities. Your situation, I think, just… made so clear what lack of control I have. And that's… maddening."

The silence that followed was laden, final. Tessa had nothing more to say on the matter. She even looked smaller, sitting there her confessions made. Natasha would light a candle for her too that night.

"First, Tessa, Clint will be all right. Take that whole situation, any guilt or shame to do with him, off your plate. You shouldn't be worrying about him and instead be proud of the fact that you did, indeed, help save him. Regardless of why or how. That's just a fact." Natasha took Tessa's cup and filled it with vodka. "Second, I think I see your reasoning behind it, but I will tell you objectively you are someone outside of your problems. You're just having a hard time seeing that because you've been treated as synonymous with your problems for so long. And, of course, your environment does you no favors. You're in a place that constantly triggers them. And third, and most importantly, you are not a freak. Everyone feels helpless in the face of their issues at least once, a boat tossed by the ocean. Everyone struggles figuring out who they are. That's not an existential crisis, it's being a human being. You'll get used to it."

Natasha threw back her entire cup of vodka. This was close to home for her as well. She'd rather not think about it. Tessa meanwhile had come out of her funk. She gazed at Natasha with a little frown on her lips.

"See that!? That's why… I… … … I… huh." She sat back, more introspect.

"Huh, what?"

"You're right. You're--I--I see that you're right about me being someone beside my problems. I, uh… that just now proved it. I… I almost said that's why I love you, which is funny, because I'm not having an event right now. I'm in control, which means… I am a person who can feel things, important, defining things, independent of my problems. I am a person who… who," she sighed, "who loves people who won't reciprocate that."

"No. You're a person who happened to develop feelings with someone who won't reciprocate that particular type of love. You found yourself attached, I assume, to aspects of me, including but not limited to and not aware of my orientation. Self-define by the fact that you do or feel or think certain things and how. By the fact that you love and how you love, not whom, okay? And that's… although a raw subject, maybe a good place to start, just the first aspect to identify. Figure out what you like and go from there."

Tessa ducked her head, but managed a nod. "I--I--I… that's one thing. Your empathy. I guess I feel more like a person around you."

"Well, like I told you, I do care about you. Romantic, sexual feelings aside, you are important to me. I consider you a friend. I take care of my friends. And now you know you appreciate that, that you want someone who'll love you regardless of the sexual and romantic chemistry you have. That's a good first ste-- Tessa? Are you okay?"

She had stood up so hard the chair hit the floor with a clattering snap. Tessa was backing up for the door. She'd shut her eyes and begun shaking her head. She was very much on the verge of not being okay. "I gotta go… gotta go… I'm… I'm… I just gotta go."

Natasha watched her leave and lit that candle. She just wished it would actually do something to help Tessa keep her head that night.


	8. Me, Myself, and They

"Come on. Come on. Come. On." As wonderfully compelling as his voice was, the schematic did not listen. Tony nearly put his fist through a grounding plate.

This ate shit. Seriously, it was a horrible shit-eating kerfuffle. Failure was not a thing he knew well, not in his work. Work was his sanctuary, his safe space. Now it had been violated by that world-overturning, self-hate-inducing, slimy beast. It was everywhere now, and the worst. Tony had zero idea how to deal with it here. It made him itch to resort to another failing of his, booze.

The really infuriating part of it all was that he had no real excuse for it. The logistics had opened wide for him, he and the puzzle were the only obstacles. Mnemosyne's stasis chamber kept her stable, he'd measured no degradation in her mass or energy output. There was no time pressure on him because of that. Only Barton and Bisho were in the Tower, no prying eyes limiting his work. He had full access to his resources, Tessa's brain was at his disposal, as was Vision's, and Mnemosyne lived in his lab. It was just Tony's shortcomings getting in his own way. Fucking performance issues. And in two separate endeavors he couldn't get it up.

Mnemosyne had no vessel and Bisho had no freaking synthetic inhibition center.

Tony felt that the two problems were interrelated. He was all but certain that once he found the solution for one, he'd have the other in hand. Today, the approach had been from the organic AI schematic. If he found a way for the whole brain to work along Tessa's neural patterns, then he could reverse engineer the mechanism for inhibition. But it just. wasn't. working.

"Simulation 877: failed."

"FRIDAY! Just--just put it up on the display. If I have to hear your stupid, Scottish voice tell me about how much of a failure I am one more time, I'll never be able to watch _Braveheart_ again and that would be a real shame."

"You programmed me as Irish, sir."

"What. Ever." He clenched both jaw and fist as failure 878 flashed across the room. "Print up Vision's neural processor. And Bisho's. And one that melds them together. I want three brains. Stat. I need to put my hands on something. I fix stuff best with my hands."

With the printer humming, Tony took up pacing. He didn't want to do it, because he hated Barton's vibe in his lab, but he might have to call Tessa up and just stare at a live feed for a while. He chewed on his stylus, searching for analogous systems he could base some synthesis on. All he could think of was how much he hated the Star Trek reboot's second installment. Not that he liked the first all that much but the second was just--

"Sir, the replicas are completed."

He stopped shuffling around the tables, boogied over to the printer product case, tapping his teeth. He had 'Big Balls' stuck in his head. His brain was taunting him, like the brains in his hand. The merged unit was beautiful. "FRIDAY, use the combined processor and map it with the Bisho-biased randomizer for electric and chemical transmission and reception."

She didn't respond but the simulation began running overhead. She was more human than JARVIS in several ways. One was that he had managed to write emotions into her programming. So why couldn't he control them in his stupid replacement operator?!

"Sir, the simulation reached a 89% data relay efficiency, the highest of the simulations. It was still, however, an assimilation failure."

It was one or the other, never both. The model breaking in his hands as he tried to inspect it pushed Tony over the edge. That 3D printer sure could fly. It sailed right through the window, plummeting like Tony's confidence. He hoped that wouldn't be a lawsuit. That damn printer had been expensive enough on its own.

"Have you taken a bone marrow sample from Dr. Bisho?"

Tony whipped around. Natasha had kept this surprise to herself. There went Tony's free rein. "Oh, hi, Bruce."

"I would wager a synthetic neural net would become vastly more organic if you could fabricate it from real, organic building blocks."

"You're back…" Tony fought with himself about freaking out over the damn glasses-tapping he hadn't missed, but then he saw something far worse for his work. "And you… brought some friends…" There was literal vomit in his mouth.

"Anthony."

"Stephen. T'Challa."

"We believed it was an opportune time to formulate a contingency plan for the world guardian. We are scheduled to present it within the month to the Collegium of the Arcane."

If only there were another 3D printer to hurl.

Elsewhere, Jess was talking, but Tessa's attention seemed to be sporadic at best. She pointed to the window and then glanced back at Jess, bewilderment and disbelief all over her precious little face.

"Di--did'ya see that?"

Jess sighed. "You didn't hear a thing I said, did you? And it totally pertained to you. These gossip sites are crazy, but the photo they had was crazy convincing. I mean, he was shirtless and you were on top of him. That's gotta be a manip, right?"

"The--there was a… was a, like… machine thing. Just fell. Right there… It had to come from the lab. I wonder if we're being attacked…"

"There'd be an alarm or something." Jess waved that off. "Focus on the juicy Avenger romance rumors that center on you."

Tessa shot her a look. "Romance rumors? Ha. That's hilarious."

"The good thing is that they only have your picture. They have no clue who you are. You'll get to keep your privacy. You'll just be the girl who straddled Hawkeye."

"Wait, you're serious? A building blew up, people died, and these sites are speculating on the sexualized aspect of my sitting on Clint, covered in blood?"

"Yeahhhhhh…" Jess backpedaled, "they must have photoshopped out the blood. That was from the building collapse? Elch. Skeevy. Anyway, onto another subject, and since my biggest topic is clearly not viable… you have any ideas?"

"Really, I'd like to know what fell past the window, but I have a feeling that when I do find out, I'll wish I hadn't. So, I'll try to forget it. … Uh… I mean, we haven't talked much about you. How'd it work out with that job? Or with that guy… what was his name? You never got around to telling me anything beyond 'fine ass, nice smile, strong handshake.'"

"Danny? Ugh. Another bust. Mostly because he just fell off the face of the earth, but yeah. I really wanted to know how that handshake was going to work out for me… oh, well. And the case went belly up. Lost all my leads. So, that's two fails for me. Hooray! Maybe we should just watch this crappy movie."

"What is this even?"

"I don't know, but I'm pretty sure that guy dies at the end."

"You say that with every film."

"I know, and I'm right at least thirty percent of the time."

"That's a horrible average."

"Yes, but it's so exciting when I'm right. You know what else would be exciting? Finding more out about what's going on with you. You're so… something lately. I don't know what it is… maybe because you're busy? But you don't come across as wide-eyed Tessa now. Maybe because you're enlightened, indoctrinated into the ways of the world? Do you have any life lessons from Avengers' Tower to share? God knows, I could use 'em."

Tessa scoffed and handed Jess the bowl of popcorn so she could refill their wine glasses. "Definitely not. I'm not learned or wise in the ways of this world. I'm just… cautious now, I guess. And I have really low expectations. … Hmm, maybe those are both life lessons. Keep an eye out and don't expect much from anybody."

"Oh, chica. Them's loaded words if ever I heard some. Spill it. What's going on?"

"Nothing. Predictably, everyone's fucked up and two fuck ups don't make anything but a disaster." That glass was gone in a gulp. Tessa poured another.

"Oh, yeah. Yeah, that sounds like _nothing,_ alright. _Sure._ This is about Natasha, isn't it? I gave you some dud advice. Look, I should never have put myself in a position to give advice! I'm the queen of failure! I'm sorry, chica."

"No, no, no. It's not even remotely anything I could peg on you. It is all kinds of… complicated. There are plenty of people to point fingers at, but mainly me. I am the queen of failure."

"I am going to contest that claim and gently plead that you tell me what happened." Jess muted the movie and turned to face Tessa on her bed. Tessa took back the remote and turned the volume back up. She didn't look at Jess when she answered.

"It would take a long time to explain, and probably would make you feel like your stomach was curdling. So, I'll sum it up by saying there's a new girl in town and her superpower is to make me ninety-nine point nine percent more likely to make a fool of myself. As has proved the case on at least three separate occasions."

"Okay, but what's her real superpower? Or is she a metaphor?" Jess pried the remote away, muted it again. Tessa didn't fight her this time, just started drinking from the bottle.

"No metaphor. She's real and she emits pheromones. They put my disinhibition response into overdrive. Like gasoline on a fire."

"Oh… oh no…"

"Yeah, exactly. And that after finding out that Natasha's… that I'm not her type. To say the least, I put my foot so squarely in my mouth I had to have it surgically removed."

"No, Tessa… no… what happened?"

"I professed my love. It was peachy. She's asexual and aromantic, so that went really well. And the fact that I was made aware of that before going in didn't stop me. Needless to say, I was embarrassed. And then, AND THEN, I made it oh-so much better by lashing out at her. I'm telling you. Made a complete ass of myself. Oh, and I'm currently having a crisis of identity, but I'm told that will resolve itself in time. So, yeah. Let's talk about who's the queen of failure now, shall we?" 

"I dropped my keys into a storm drain and instead of getting something to fish them out with I ripped the manhole cover out of the ground. I now owe the city several hundred dollars in property damages and I still never got my keys. I now crawl in and out of my apartment through a window that I lock with gym locker combination lock. Does that help my case?"

Tessa cut her eyes over at her. "No. If anything that gets you duchess status only. Let me repeat, I can't control myself around one half of my housemates and can never forget the burn of shame afterwards. Not even when I get blackout drunk, and yes, I've tried. Oh, and also, Stark has not found the solution he promised to this little disinhibition problem, so I'm stuck like this for the foreseeable future. Conclusion: I should live in a cave. There my reign would be harmless."

Tessa wasn't the only one considering moving to a remote location forever. The flight from the Antipodes Islands had been a long one. Stopping to pick up passengers elsewhere hadn't made it any shorter. Natasha wanted a warm meal, a shower and then to collapse in bed and not ever be disturbed again. She was not going to get a single one of those things, it seemed.

"FRIDAY, why is the elevator stopped?" Maybe she could just sleep right there on the floor of the car. At least that way, if it plummeted towards the earth, she would be limp and more likely to survive. And the elevator car was isolated.

"Mr. Stark has ordered it stopped. I think he's upset with you, ma'am."

"Yes, thank you, FRIDAY. That would make sense. Passive-aggressive little shit." Natasha pulled a lock pick out of her boot and shimmed up the adjacent walls of the car. She'd just have to climb out of there and up the service ladder.

"I wouldn't advice that, Ms. Romanoff. He's also ordered the hatch electrified."

Natasha threw a bobby pin at the hatch. It zapped straight to the floor. She blew a strand of hair out of her eyes and dropped as well. Plan B. She hadn't wanted to cause Stark any unnecessary expense, but the self-entitled little fuck had forced her hand. She pulled out a knife and pried the panel off the onboard computer.

"Sorry, FRIDAY, this is my elevator now." With the car disconnected from the LAN, no more orders could be given to it. Stark would have to climb down to it to repair the wiring. That, or cut the cable, and Natasha strongly suspected he wanted her stuck, not dead.

Tough luck for him. She was out of the elevator in under a minute, up the shaft and prying open the closest door in under five. But then, FRIDAY had locked every door to her, and the phone calls started. Stark was really being petulant about Natasha ambushing him. Warning him that even Banner was coming back would have given him time to weasel his way into a different situation. This way, the conversation about what happens when Mnemosyne's stasis chamber stops being effective would actually happen. So, he was pissed, all because he couldn't dick around like he had been anymore. He'd get over it.

Natasha ignored the twentieth call and began trying to break into a storage closet. She would just lock herself in this nondescript closet and sleep for thirty-two hours. With her phone's battery removed that might actually be possible. Except then Vision was behind her.

"Agent Romanoff, I believe your presence is needed in the upper lounging area. A situation has developed that I estimate would benefit greatly from your diplomacy."

Since when was he even in the city? Natasha gave up escaping reality and took a deep, fortifying breath. When she turned to face the android, she was wearing her game face. "What's the situation?"

His facial expressions were unnerving, or their existence took getting used to, rather. This one was something like discomfort. "Mr. Stark has made a series of rash decisions since our guests' arrival. I am pleased you were able to track down Dr. Banner, by the way. When I sought you out, Mr. Stark was considering calling a team vote as concerns the approach to solving the Mnemosyne conundrum. As a team vote would include bringing Dr. Bisho and Ms. Drew into the mix with a number of other volatile variables, I decided seeking your ameliorating skills would be the best course of action."

Natasha's first reaction was to roll her eyes. She went with her second instead. That was to text Barton. He could check to make sure Tessa stayed out of the mess. "Can you get the elevators back in operation in time, Vision?"

"Indeed."

"Great, let's get to the fire, hopefully put it out before it spreads."

Her phone dinged in her pocket just as Vision restored operation to the elevator. Clint had not gotten there in time. "A good thought, Vision, but a touch too late."

He sighed. His mannerisms were becoming more human by the day. "Horseshoes and hand grenades, I believe the saying goes."

"Maybe close enough. We'll try to intercept Tessa, at least."

"I shall head that way." His molecular manipulation added to his unnerving quality. Phasing through walls you just didn't get used to seeing. It did come in handy, though, like then. If he headed them off, any escalation to the situation could be avoided.

Unfortunately, he did not get to Tessa soon enough. Natasha made it to the sitting room just in time to see, or rather to be, the pin pulled from the grenade. Only Stark was seated, a smoothie in hand, forced smile on his face. The rest were scattered around the room at varying degrees of discomfort. Drew stood at the window, thankfully, as she looked among the least at ease. Tessa stood to Natasha's right, a half step behind Clint and Vision as if shielding herself with them from Drew and the others. Across from Stark, T'Challa was investigating the command center, and Strange gazed out the window, hands behind his back. Banner, regretfully thrown back into this farce, was carefully situated by an exit, retired to a wall and making himself as small as possible. Not a single person said a word. Until she stepped out of the elevator.

"Ah, Widow. Nice of you to join us. We were just about to have an important, team conversation. Thanks for making that possible. I'm always so happy to entertain visitors." Stark sounded just about as pleased as his smile seemed genuine. And, as usual, his words were a weapon, this time causing destruction through more than one channel. They cut with their sarcasm, sure, but again, much more incendiary-wise, they pulled the pin.

Tessa hadn't even noticed her up until that point. However, with the information that not only Natasha was there, but she was ultimately responsible for that happy gathering, Tessa reacted to all the surprises in predictable fashion. She flew off the handle. Maybe it was Drew's nervous influence, or Natasha's long absence, or the stress of being involved in such a passive-aggressive showdown, or all of that combined, but this was Tessa's most violent outburst yet. Vision's presence was here a godsend. Tessa had hardly a chance to get around to doing anything she would inevitably regret. He secured her quickly, and as incensed as she was, she didn't have the presence of mind to say anything intelligible. But still she struggled, all the way to the elevator.

Natasha grabbed Clint as that happened. "Go with her. I'll follow to talk her down after I diffuse this situation."

"You know I'm still healing, right? I should be at home sleeping forever." Clint sighed heavily but trudged to the elevator. "All you had to do was call ahead."

"Yeah, Natasha. Why didn't you just avoid all this and call ahead."

"Because then, Stark, _you_ could have avoided all this. Lesser of two evils."

"Speaking of, shouldn't you already have resolved the dilemma Dr. Bisho faces behaviorally? Neurologically speaking, the approach should be fairly straightforward and with your prowess in synthetics, an easy fix."

"Well, it's not an easy fix, Strange. If you would like a peek at the fucking labyrinth that is her neural relay patterns, I'd be glad to give 'em to you. You too, T'Challa. Maybe your hocus-pocus is the final ingredient it needs."

"How about you cut the spite and actually collaborate with them on this, Tony. I didn't just bring them here to breathe down your neck. They can help. They want to help. You don't have to put a power dynamic into every situation. Collaborate, all of you. I have to go try to put Dr. Bisho back together. By the way, did you even think for a second what effect this kind of situation would have on her? Or were you more concerned with putting on your show, eliciting the best dramatic effect and making everyone as unhappy with the situation as you are?" She turned away, shaking her head.

Stark had no response. Banner did, however. "Do you have a technique for talking her down?" He had stepped forward, glasses in his hands. "I'd like to come with you and try to help, actually. I think I may be able to contribute to both situations that way."

"Sure, Bruce," Natasha replied heavily. "Let's give that a try." At this point, Natasha was ready to try anything to make the situation with Tessa better. Maybe someone with similar id control issues could offer that integral insight. Maybe he could identify what Natasha was doing wrong.

They were mostly silent on their trip down to Tessa's room. As such, they could hear her shouting from the elevator. It was lewd, but it wasn't feral moaning. That was a start.

"Romanoff!"

Natasha paused, sincerely hoping the person attached to that voice was not who she suspected. No such luck. "Jessica Jones."

"Yeah, hi and all that. What's going on. I was in the mess hall -- where Tess said I could wait, by the way, I wasn't loitering, while she went to Stark's summons -- and I heard what sounded like a velociraptor giving birth. Is… is that Tessa?"

Beside her Banner gave Natasha a significant look and then continued down the hall. Natasha was on her own with this. "Well, Jones--"

"And was that Bruce Banner? Seriously, what the hell is going on?"

There wasn't really time to explain. Natasha took the phone from Jones' hand and dialed her number into it. When her own rang, she shut it off and handed it back. "Here. I have your number now. Go home. I'll keep you updated, okay?"

Jones looked at the phone again in her hand and then back up at Natasha. It was not okay, judging by the look on her face. "Uh, no," she snorted. "If that's Tessa, I'm not leaving. Hell! If that's anyone, I'm not leaving. What's going on?!"

Natasha recalled Jones' background, decided she did have time for this. "It is Tessa. She's having a disinhibition spell."

"Wait, what? I thought that just meant she said things she normally wouldn't. Like, sexy things…"

Natasha shook her head. "It can be more severe than just that. The part of her brain that moderates between base impulses and higher reasoning… jams almost. Her lower functions are in control then, that's all the instinctual things, sex, yes, but also rage and fear and hunger and thirst etc.. Depending upon how much that moderating faculty short circuits she could end up anywhere between having no verbal filter to acting like a feral animal. That's what is going on currently. I have to go ensure that inner animal doesn't bring out the hulk. You, though, you should go. I'm fairly certain Tessa didn't tell you that on purpose. She definitely wouldn't want you seeing her like this."

Jones stayed put when Natasha turned, but looked amply discouraged from following. Hopefully, she would heed the warning and go, leave Tessa some sanctuary from this part of her life. Inside the room, the scene was much different from what had been expected. For one, it was quiet and undisturbed by violence. For another, what sound there was came from Banner and Tessa nearly exchanging full sentences.

"Look at me. Don't look at her," Banner said softly as Natasha closed the door. Tessa seemed to comply, breathing deeply but keeping still. He continued in the same tone at the same volume and smooth rhythm, like a yogi. "I read your paper on laughter and pedagogy. Were you planning on following up with the research into dopamine and skill application versus information retention?"

"N--n--no. dopamine was--is… that approach is too… in--in--invasive… observation in situ is the limit to my tampering."

"As it should be, anthropology background that you have," Banner answered with a little smile while subtly waving Natasha away.

Clint and Vision stood outside of Tessa's eye line. It was to their little corner than Natasha quickly edged, hoping she wouldn't disrupt their still calm conversation. It made complete sense that Banner had been able to do what Natasha had not, but all the same she strangely felt abandoned. It was amid the struggle over that unwelcomed and irrational sentiment that she joined the others. It must have shown on her face.

"What happened?" She asked, waving away Clint's own ASL version of that question directed at her.

He considered her for a second and then shrugged. "She calmed down in the elevator. I guess it was Drew? Maybe Strange? I mean, he creeps me out…"

"Actually," Vision offered, "I believe the catalyst to be yourself, Agent Romanoff." He paused at Clint's sigh, watched as he dragged a hand down his face, and then continued. "Her heart rate spiked upon seeing you enter the room--"

"Well," Clint interjected, "Banner's got her calmed down now, all the way to big words I don't know already, so it must've been more than just you. A combination of things. Drew and Strange and you. And Tony. He's enough alone to set me off some days."

"What did Banner do?" Natasha asked instead of sighing.

"Asked some weird questions and then some stuff about her."

"He triggered her rational faculties and then directed her focus onto self-formative categories that centered on her volitional interests."

Clint sucked on his teeth before turning to Vision. "Yeah, that is what I just said, minus the jargon."  

"It is a more precise and informative account."

"You need to speed up the whole social graces download, because that stuff is just obnoxious. I don't know how Maximoff puts up with you. I miss JARVIS."

The two of them watched Clint stalk off to Tessa's bed, and Natasha was just about to follow when another question occurred to her.

"How did she react to you securing her? Did she turn her focus on you?"

Vision shook his head. "No, she struggled but her effort seemed directed at attacking Mr. Stark, actually."

'Yes… He was being antagonistic, wasn't he? Against me,' Natasha thought to herself. Her self didn't answer. "But she was fine before she noticed me?"

She could see his eye focusing as he looked down at her. The mechanics of it were beautiful and intricate. More amazing, was that it somehow still conveyed the same message as the look Clint would've given. Admonition. "Your presence weakens her control."

Natasha was the one choice Tessa felt like she'd actually made, and it backfired for her. Of course, she was her trigger. That much was glaringly clear to Natasha. She nodded, accepting the caution. "Thank you, Vision."

"Of course. There's a quinjet fueled in hangar F."

Also good advice. "Yes, thank you." Her options were obvious, the choice premade. Her phone was out, a text sent quickly to Steve. One last thing, tell Clint.

He was still on Tessa's bed, wiggling his finger through yet another hole in his shirt. How'd that one get there? That and considering drinking even though Cho told him he shouldn't had been occupying his attention the past few minutes. How much harm could it actually do, drinking? People drank after major surgery all the time, right? A little voice sounding suspiciously like Kate's answered: yeah, the dead kind. He sighed and turned his focus back outward, just in time to notice Nat sitting down beside him. He did not like the look on her face.

"Oh, god. What happened upstairs?" He'd forgotten to ask, what with the Tessa metamorphosis and Vision's intellectual elitism. "Judging by the look on your face, I don't think I even want to know… I just don't want to live in a world where every time I try to use a computer I have to verify my intentions on the astral plane…"

Nat barked out a quiet, little laugh, seeming surprised at the sound. "No, no, it's… well, I'm not sure, but last I saw it was going as well as it can up there. It's not that."

"Then, what is it?"

"Well…" One corner of her mouth pulled up a little. It was definitely bad news. "I'm going to be leaving for a while…"

Clint wanted to have her repeat it, just to make sure he heard right, read her lips right. But he knew he had. It was that little quirk to her mouth, always bad news. There was an ulcer he had from that lip tic alone. It felt grumpy just then. It would just get worse once she went 'away for a while' because he was just hanging on as it was. He wasn't equipped to take care of himself alone, much less any of this other shit, without Nat's help.

"What about Bisho? She relies on you. You should see her when you're gone as it is, on short trips." He knew saying it, it was a weak case.

"Clint, have you seen her when I'm here? Really looked her in the face? This," she jerked a thumb over her shoulder to the ongoing counseling session, "cannot seriously be an improvement. She may think she needs to rely on me, but I think she shouldn't. I think that really what she needs is to not rely on anyone for a while, for anything. No one should be forced into a situation where they're made to rely on someone who triggers their emotional distress. Trust me. When presented with the other option, she'll discover it's the better one. Whatever peace she gets from knowing I'm around, if any, it'll be quadrupled by the assurance that I'm not just around the corner, poised to set off an attack.

"Fuck, Clint, did you see the agony in her eyes right before she lost control? I don't want to see that happen to anyone, much less be the cause. Vision is right. There is a direct coincidence between Tessa's attacks and my presence alone. Everything else is variable. It's me. I'm her trigger right now and, until she can figure out a way to dispel whatever effect I'm having that sets her off, I'm gone." She leaned over to collect one of Tessa's small notebooks and began writing quickly.

"Steve mentioned needing some help if I could spare it. I'm not needed here for Stark… he has other people to answer to now… I'm more help not here. This note… I'll leave this note for Tessa, so I don't set her off again by giving her the bad news face to face… and then, I'm leaving." She tore out the page and handed it to him. "Watch her, Clint. You were right. She does need someone for support, but not me. You. Okay? Give me a call when she can be in a room with Drew without making googly eyes at her. Then I'll come back to test the waters again, and with fair warning."

How she could make and act on such big decisions so quickly boggled Clint sometimes. In the field was one thing, a different set of circumstances. In the real world, though, he just couldn't keep up. He sat in the aftershocks of her moves long after she was gone. He still couldn't decide how that hole in his shirt had gotten there, but he did make one choice. There would be drinking.

It was down to drinking what when Tessa collapsed on her bed beside him. At some point everyone else had filtered out of the room as well.  

"I'm just going to pass out right here. Don't mind me. You're welcome to continue shaping my mattress to your ass."

Clint stared blankly at the note still perched lightly on his hand. Was this moment the time for this letter? Natasha had invested him with the responsibility of making sure that it was. The person face down on the bed beside him was its recipient. Was this the time?  

"Oh, well…" He slipped the note into the book on her nightstand. For another time. "I was going to go drink heavily against my doctor's orders…"

Tessa rolled over then, considered him. If that was the wrong choice, it was too late for Clint to change it. "Two questions: is that an invitation, and if it is, can this be another thing on the pretend-it-didn't-happen list?"

Clint stood. What was done was done. "Yes and yes. I always feel less like a dumpster mogul when I'm not drinking alone."

"Dumpster mogul," Tessa laughed. "Well, let me introduce you to Her Majesty the Queen of Failure. What a lovely pair…"

The stash he kept in the Tower was in the Lower Lounge, a few floors up. They headed that way in comfortable silence, two walking accidents waiting to happen. Tessa rinsed two glasses while Clint overturned the couch like he hadn't just been shot and nearly bled out several weeks before. His staple work was still secure. It was almost a shame to ruin that upholstery job of his, but he didn't feel like waiting the time it would take to pry out the staples. He cut through and retrieved the bottles in a few seconds.

"Cheers."

Tess had a way of flopping down that Clint completely understood. Sometimes, easing into things was just too much work. They clinked glasses and began the long, quiet drink to the bottom of the bottles. Neither of them were inclined to talk and that worked out just fine. Their silence did make for an awkward moment eventually, though. Just not between the two of them.

A few sips into their second pour, a flurry of silky black hair and fluffy cotton bath robe came whirling into the room. Drew in her majestic and heedless haste didn't notice the two of them at all. She fluttered around, grabbing popcorn out of the cabinets and setting it in the microwave, humming to herself the whole while. It wasn't until she looked up from rifling through the granola box marked CLINT in his heavy block script that Jessica realized they were there.

She slammed the box onto the counter, a sheepish grin on her face. "Oops, caught! This isn't your popcorn, too, is it?"

It was. "No, no, it's fine…" Both he and Tessa shook their heads. Clint elbowed Tessa when he noticed her staring, but he couldn't blame her. Beyond the obvious, it was intriguing seeing Drew out of the two situations she was always put in. Uncomfortable to the point of paralysis and utter composure. At that moment, she was charmingly off guard.

"Oh, phew. Okay. Heh. I'm on record as a horrible roommate, in my own defense." She shook the box of granola and then pulled something between a grin and a frown. Clint couldn't look away even though it was like staring into the sun. "You know, someone filled in the line between the L and I here… that's unfortunate…" The microwave beeped just then. "Well, thanks for not jumping down my throat over the granola. That was nice of you. And the popcorn? That'll be our little secret, okay?"

Neither of them got it together in time to respond. Drew stepped towards the door, shaking the steaming bag. "All riiiiight. Well, good talk. Good talk."

She was just about through the door when Clint heard himself speaking. "You wanna stay for a drink?"

Beside him, Tessa finally broke her stare to gawk at him instead. For good reason.

"It just came out," he whispered, "sorry."

"…'d love to! I'll be just right back." They tuned back in right in time to see Drew excitedly skittering out of the room, and leaving Clint with an odd feeling of not quite knowing how it was he operated this big flesh bag.

It was with that same uncanny sensation he woke up an unknown amount of time later. He hoped the whole being a back-seat passenger in his own body thing was just a side effect of drinking when he shouldn't and not something permanent. That hope wasn't fully formulated at that precise moment, however. His mind was too foggy to complete operations. It couldn't even fully open both of his eyes. What in the hell had happened? He sure as fuck had no clue. All he could gather was that he was in bed and that his head hurt. Two not unfamiliar things. He could deal with those two things. Unfortunately, those were not all the things.

It occurred to him that he should have listened to Cho, she was probably right and better at making decisions than him. His head cleared some more of the fog and he realized that his head hurt, yes, he was in bed, yes, and that he was naked. All not that unusual for him still, except that he did not recognize the sheets resting over his face. They were very soft and not the blue silky set that Nat sometimes put on his bed for him. These were perfectly white and felt like a cloud. This was not his bed.

Out from under the sheet, he did not recognize the ceiling, or the placement of the window. This was not his room, not his bed. Not good. Definitely should have listened to Cho. Worse, the fluffy cotton bathrobe at the foot of the bed. He remembered how fluffy it felt, how delectably it slid over skin.

"Shit," he hissed as the full barrage of that experience fell on him. What a massive, incredible, totally avoidable had he listened to his medical professional, mistake. He promptly began trying to disentangle himself from the gloriously soft white sheets, to slide down to the foot of the bed and deal with this fuck up of earth-shattering magnitude later. Maybe when they weren't both naked and hungover. Maybe after a full physical and mental work up for Clint. But Drew stirred, rolled over, and fell back asleep with her arm over him. He was stuck.

The opportunity for escape passed, Clint began formulating his speech, hoping Drew would remember and explain how this happened. Except something was wrong. Drew was splayed over him, still and sleeping, to his right. Why was there movement on his left? A cold sweat immediately greeted him with violent assurance of its source.

Tessa shot straight upright, clasping sheets around her, hiding scars. She definitely remembered what had happened. "Holy fucking shit!"

Yeah, this was undoubtedly not good for his health. Good job making life choices, Clint.


	9. Smells Like Team Failure

"And I liked it! I actually liked it."

"And… you're… surprised by that?" From what Jess was hearing, the surprise was out of place. Most people generally liked what Tessa was confessing about. She sat back in her chair, watching her friend pace frenetically across her office, and trying to figure out where the problem lay.

"Yeah! I mean, no… … No, I mean, sex is…" Tessa paused and pulled her hair down so hard around her ears that Jess nearly thought she could hear the follicles tearing. "What I really mean is, I feel guilty. I feel better, yes. Jess, I feel better… but I feel guilty because… I feel… better? The whole… clusterfuck I created with Natasha and then I do this… I shouldn't feel better in any way. It should all be misery, all the time. Uniform misery."

"Nah. You had some pent up energy, that relief is deserved. Upside: you're probably better now. You can probably talk to Tash without all the hormones making you crazy-pants. You know? Just be her friend."

Jessica reached into her desk drawer as Tessa literally collapsed onto the ground in a fit of melodrama. This was a spoon-fed peanut butter problem. She couldn't deal with a grown woman going jelly-legged without her trusty peanut butter fix. This was a thing she knew.

"No, Jess. No." At least she wasn't wailing. It was more a crusty, ragged kind of groan. "It was exhausting being around her. Just like constantly pushing a sequence of tiny buttons in exact and rapid succession to keep the world from falling into a nuclear winter."

"Wow. Big metaphor. Couldn't have just gone with the little kid with her fingers stopping the holes in the dam, or whatever?"

Tessa didn't hear her, she just slogged right on. "Not wanting her was constantly on my mind. I couldn't think of anything else. Ugh. I'm weak, too. I'm a weak, weak, depraved sexual animal."

"Jeez. Easy on the histrionics, chica. You'll put my soaps out of business." Jess said through a mouth full of delicious nutty goodness, "maybe you could work something out. Have some kind of outlet like this to help you move past that fixation when you're around her. But you know, low commitment still, for your condition. I'd basically criminalize myself for that set up."

"I thought about her the whole. Damn. Time," Tessa replied, talking to the ceiling. "I'm in no way stable enough for that kind of… pre-meditated arrangement. This was a flub. The whole thing was a big mistake and it's a miracle it didn't go somehow worse, but it did make one thing very clear. I can't be around her at all. Everything with that… it's just… not good. I… I… I just can't. You can imagine-- I was relieved to find her note. That's how messed up it all is."

Jess snorted, "yeah. You're right about that. You need to work on finding a way to get over her. Sidebar back to criminalizing myself…" She was talking around the spoon in her mouth, scrolling down the page on her phone to the other promised picture. "You seen this guy in the red suit? Yowsa. I'm trying to stay away from that scene, but hubba hubba. Maybe I'm just that single…"

"Really?" Tess sat up finally, confusion on her face. "Wade? Huh."

Jess glanced between the second picture and Tess. "Wait, you know him?" She was suddenly and intensely jealous and not at all sorry for Tessa's wonderful sex life, actual and potential alike.

"Red and black suit? Yeah… met him on a roof during work, had tea."

"Had… tea… during work? In the day? I thought he was an after dark only kinda vigilante…"

Tessa sat back up and took the phone from Jess. She frowned and then handed it back, shaking her head. "Yeah, no. Wrong red and black suit, my bad… Speaking of my bad, oh.my.god. Epic bad on my part! How have we not talked about what an epically horrific decision this was?! Beyond the Natasha part?!"

"Not your bad," Jess scoffed. "Your good. Take advantage of it. Get your rocks of with Drew or Barton or both for a while. Seriously. It sounds like they played your fiddle like a pro, despite you being all caught in the widow's web or whatever. God, that sounded less cheesy in my head."

On the floor Tessa groaned and finally rolled over. It was with an disarming intensity she met Jess's eye next. "Perfect distraction. I was never bored… And Drew. Unf, her hair… She smells. so. good."

"…They were attentive, huh?."

"I guess you could say that… it was intense…" Tess nodded vaguely, her eyes far away. Jess could wager a guess where. She was creeping that general direction herself.

"That's interesting… I always figured him as something of an airhead. I mean, he gets himself into these situations… And, you know, he's pretty. You figure: selfish, straight, entitled, clueless, white boy. Huh."

"What? Sorry… the mental picture is… Yeah. They're both very pretty people. Clint looks way batter naked than dressed. And Drew… just as delicious as you would expect…"

"You don't say? …Yeah, uh, if you don't stick with Mr. I Love Arrows, I'm thinkin' maybe Jess'll take herself a pass. You know? You take Drew. I'll take him?"

"Oh, Jess… he is surprisingly fit. For how poorly he takes care of himself… but then again… Avenger… Anyway, that doesn't matter because yet again I've fucked up the safe friendship I had there with… with sex…" Tessa transitioned from blissful to angsty fast enough to pull Jess back to the present and remind her of the open jar of peanut butter in her hand. "I just… I don't know what to do."

"Uh, talk to him about it, maybe? To both of them. You know, big kid chat about the amazing, enviable sex you had. Schedule more, maybe, and lay down some ground rules. I like nougat for a safe word."

"Are you kidding? We can't talk about it! We haven't-- I mean first thing afterwards, we all just stared at each other and then promptly hauled ass in opposite directions. That is not the action of a person willing to talk about things. People who…"

"You hauled ass away," Jess mumbled, unheard. "You don't know what they did, because of the getting the fuck out of dodge part."

"…like rational adults. But not run away. That's… that's a person who… needs to forget it ever happened. But, god, Jess. I sure can't forget, and now they know about… they've seen my… secrets…"

"Even more reason to talk about it, chica," Jess managed around her spoon.

"I mean, he's my handler. With Drew, it's different because we're kind of systematically separated. But Clint… he supervises and keeps me safe for observations, like, really often. And I don't even have those kinds of feelings for him, but it… happened still. And Drew, too… I just… I'm confused, I think."

" _Talk to them about it and then do it again!_ " Maybe if Jess put it to a tune it would get stuck in Tess's head and she'd actually do it.

"Who knows what they're expecting from me, or thinking! Ugh! Who knows what they're thinking about all this. And speaking of thinking, who will ever take me seriously if this is the theme of all my close team friendships?! Why do I keep doing this?" The period of melancholy motionless on the floor promptly ended, gave way to the pacing again. "I don't even have an excuse this time. I mean, Natasha just--"

She looked down at the phone in her hand like it was a grenade with the pin pulled. As the ring tone chimed again she almost jumped.

"Shit!" She finally yelped and looked up at Jess with eyes painfully wide. "Shit, he's calling me. Clint's calling me! What do I do?!"

Tessa probably didn't mean for Jess to take the phone from her when she held it out in fear, but that's exactly what Jess did. She snatched it right up and swiped the call open. "Tessa's phone. This is Jessica Jones. How may I direct your next threesome?"

The line stayed silent for a good four seconds. "Uh… … … … Can I speak to Tess? Please."

Jess sighed. That was so not how he should have responded. What a waste. "Sure thing, tiger." She put the phone on speaker and held it out, but didn't give it up. Tessa would probably hang up if she did.

Tessa gave her a tense, conflicted look as she answered. "Uh… hi, Clint. Wh--what's going on?"

"They need you back at the Tower, Tess. The gang's all here, something about a live feed synthesis." If he was as chock full of regret as Tessa, he was good at keeping it from his voice. Jess only detected a hint of anxiety.

"Right, okay… I'll be in soon."

"And Tess? I--" Whatever the pretty boy archer had to say next, Jess sure wasn't going to find out. Tess slapped the phone screen and ended the call with fly-swatting speed. She had the same kind of look on her face, too. Snatching it from Jess's hand with the same surprising dexterity, Tessa hurried around the room and gathered her things, shaking her head all the while.

"Uh, chica! What the hell was that? That was not taking advantage of the perfect opportunity to have a conversation about your adult play time, which you do need to talk about! Hey! This is good advice! Take it! It's the only time you'll get it from me! Talk to them, Te--!"

"Thanks, Jess! Gotta go!" Closing a door on someone while they're shouting at you is basically the in-person version of hanging up on them. Jess knew how the hawk guy felt in that.

In a better part of the city, in a higher building, in a nicer office, someone was feeling distinctly mistreated. There had been an email. It had gone to everyone. And everyone had read it. Tony was sure of that because he encoded the message with a receipt tag. They'd all opened it and just chose to ignore him. And by all, that meant Natasha and Tessa. Still, infuriating.

But their little spitfire misfit made up for her tardiness, when she finally tromped into the lab, by being horribly fascinating. Mostly in her pointed and titillating campaign to ignore Barton completely. It made Tony giddy to watch, her with her blatant disregard for his presence, him with his sad sack attempts to figure out why. And then the classic Barton hollow acceptance of failure. He actually, audibly sighed his exasperation when he flopped into his time-out chair across the lab. Something about one more thing he'd fucked up and being a moron. Standard stuff but scrumptious all the same. Now, Tony just needed to know what Barton had fucked up this time.

So, like a good scientist, he poked his nose where it could potentially not belong. Research. "What'd Clint do?"

Bisho's eyes flashed over at him. A warning. But Tony was notoriously bad at taking a hint when he didn't want it. He attached another wire and tried again.

"It was him, right? It's always him. Come on, what'd he do? Make a sloppy move? That's in his wheelhouse. He did, didn't he? Good thing J Drew isn't here to make that all more awkward. She makes things… warm. Anyway, let me guess. He was drinking, 'cause he was sad--nothing new there--and dug himself a hole. The stars were aligned for that. It was just about time he imploded. And, he'd been doing pretty well with you. Yeah, he must've. That's what he does, gets to a good place with someone and then ruins it. He's very self-destructive."

"You're one to talk," Tessa finally mumbled back. That made Bruce laugh. Ass.

"Leave it be, Tony. Not your business."

"Oh, who asked you? Stick to your pathway calibrations, giggles." But Tony had to give it a break for a moment, he had algorithm demos to supervise before Vision and Mnemosyne synced in as well. "You stick tight, Bisho. And think up some wittier comebacks. This isn't over."

Bruce hung back, being all professional and yet considerate. He was adorable. "And link point thirty-two, the taste of blueberries. … … … Tessa, are you comfortable doing this today? If you do have extenuating circumstances we would all understand."

"We would not!"

"Ignore him. We would. … … … Tessa?"

"I'll be fine, thanks."

"Link point thirty-three, August twelfth, 1985. … … …. Is there anything I can do for you? Get for you?"

"Are Wanda and the Vision here?"

"Dr. Cho is linking in the Vision in a moment, but I can tell Wanda that you're asking after her. She's just waiting with Stephen while T'Challa re-gears Mnemosyne's stasis chamber."

"I'd like to see her, both of them, when I can. Thank you, Dr. Banner."

"Of course."

Tony swept in as Bruce shuffled off. "So, he did make a move, didn't he?"

She rolled her eyes. He was getting somewhere.

"It was sad and pitiful, undoubtedly. Did you just rebuff him or-- no… No, this is regret silence. You pity banged him, didn't you? What was the move? Or were you influenced by your own iss--"

"Why are you so interested, Mr. Stark? I don't think Ms. Potts would be appreciative of you taking on other partners."

Tony had to actively not smile. "Oh, you definitely pity banged him. Or maybe he pity banged you… The Widow is glaringly absent from this. Is something going on in my house, kids?!"

"Aren't you supposed to be saving a cosmic entity? Not digging up stories for a gossip magazine. Or maybe not… I've yet to see your fix for my inhibition centers."

Tony had a perfectly good response to that. He did. It was just that he'd suddenly lost interest in talking with Tessa. She was in a snippy place. No one needed that sourness right before a big game. And besides, Wanda was heading their way. He never found their conversations as interesting as his own with himself, so he moved away and began aligning the feed coming in from Vision to the one he had for Tessa. Those two had their light, uninteresting conversation mostly about Mnemosyne while he did that. He kept an ear out, just in case something interesting came up. But soon Cho was finished and readings popped up from T'Challa's converter and things became much more worth his attention on the monitors.

"Alright, everyone, to your places."

Clint was already in his place. When it came to this sort of thing, this was always his place. The sidelines. When it came to a lot of things, apparently, this was his place. He should have stayed there with Tessa instead of hopping into the action. Not that he really remembered how that hopping happened, but it had and it had obviously been a mistake. Now he was sidelined in a whole new way. Banner and the Witch were going to take his place.

He watched the syncing run and fail time and again, trying to decide how he was going to fix this. That was if he even could fix it. Stark was right, this was in his wheelhouse, but the fixing wasn't. He was just the dipshit who was good at fucking up a friendship… with fucking. But this was at a whole new level of despicable. This was her drug, she was his responsibility to keep on track, and she was vulnerable from the Nat situation on top of all that.

"What was I thinking?!" He hissed to himself, face in his hands.

"From the state of your mind, Barton, I'd imagine you weren't…" Suddenly Strange was there looming over him. He was somehow more disquieting as he sat down beside Clint. "You're distressed."

"Uh… aren't you here for the glowing goo's sake? I didn't know counseling was in your job description."

Strange tilted his head a touch, the proud man's shrug. "Your angst was all-permeating enough to demand my attention, like a small child slamming his bow onto the violin's strings, wrenching his impotence out in a cacophony. You can struggle and strive, but unless you finesse your efforts, it won't be coerced into a melody."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean," Clint snapped back. "Why don't you come out with it and say I'm throwing a mental tantrum?"

"Because it's more than that. I know that you find me unsettling, but if you need to ease your mind, I've been known to provide charms in extenuating circumstances. And excellent advice." It was weird hearing help offered with such disdain. He stood again and looked down his nose at Clint. "Either that, or you leave. You're poisoning the well."

Maybe more a threat than an offer. Strange walked off with a wave in Tony's direction, just as he kicked over a stool. Almost as if Strange had known it was about to happen, the synthesis projection shut off and Stark stormed to the back.

"This was a wash. Everyone can go back to their own crap now!"

Apparently, now Clint's fail-itude was contagious. Spectacular.


	10. Leveling Off

It was good to be back. Yes, of course it was good to be back at the Tower with the gang. He'd missed being there often enough to make that a clear sentiment. And also, of course, it was useful that he be around. He was always 'useful' by other people's estimations. And while it was nice to hear, that he was useful, it became tiresome in some regards. It wore on him, being useful and nothing else. Was it what they thought he wanted to hear, or simply the truth? No telling, because they all tiptoed around him.

"Out of the makeup chair, Bruce. They've got eyes on them. Bisho's in position. Time for your close up."

Everyone but Tony, which would have been refreshing except for the fact that Bruce couldn't parse Tony doing something like that from the man's near absolute self-centeredness. All the same, it was a welcomed change of pace. Today he was useful simply because he was actually useful.

"And you're certain that Geiger counter was properly calibrated?"

"Did it myself."

"Then, yes, _of course_ , it was properly calibrated."

Tony grinned and shoved him towards the camera. "Glad you're so confident in me."

"Yes, well, I just think it's strange that you have a rash of gamma-based steroid usages and I'm not formulating a response plan. Instead, I'm improvising neural telefrequencies. Not that I don't enjoy that…" Bruce sat in front of the camera and began drawing up the data maps.

They were hoping to find a way to transmit Tessa's memories long distance. If they could set up a 'live feed', as Tony called it, from her memory creation to a synthetic display, then they could certainly find a way to replicate the process in a synthetic neural net.

"Hey, I don't know what to tell you. I thought you'd take it as a compliment. You show up and all of a sudden we can sync Tess and the glob through the Vision. If anyone can cipher out how to remove the middleman, it's you."

"That's because you can only get so far thinking of people as hardware and software," Bruce sighed and then dialed up his video line to Tessa.

If Tony heard him, he pretended not to have. "Okay, and now… we have power."

The read outs on Bruce's screen were random and unintelligible. Tessa's relay points were probably skewed. Again. Finally, the video feed connected, Tessa's disgruntled visage appearing on screen, barely up lit by the glow of her own screen and street lights far below her. The receivers on her temples were blinking and still in position. It had to be her current brain chemistry. The other reason this feat of Tony's was so near impossible. A living being, while predictable in general, was hardly an executor of an exact pattern. You couldn't calibrate a person just once. There were just too many variables.

"Dr. Banner? The readings' right, or do I need to do… something?"  

He stopped looking over his glasses at the other screen. "Oh, uh. No. Let's go through the link points again, okay?"

The link point calibration took nearly no time at all with Tessa. Naturally, as she knew it by rote after the first time. Bruce only needed to say the numbers to cue her for the next sync up. With that complete, he could see a very loose pattern to things and began trying to intuit the relay networks, asking Tessa for collaborating information now and again. All the same, they were nowhere close to 'seeing' her memories on a screen as she created them. The thing Bruce was best able to decode was on a binary, agitation. It was almost crystal clear when Tessa formed a memory under some stress, the feed was like lightning, distinct and bright, then.

At that moment, it was neither distinct nor bright. Bruce was just barely muddling through what readings were what transmissions. He was lost. "Tessa? Catch us up here, what do you see?"

"Wanda's south of the main building. She's incapacitated two of them, mind freeze, I think. Vision's up high, avoiding what looks like car parts from being hurled at civvies. He's catching 'em and putting 'em on the roof. Can't see Clint. He's hope--probably perched out of the way somewhere."

Bruce put his mic on mute as Tony wandered over. "That's… not what I'm getting from this."

"Yeah, the electric signal's all wonky. FRIDAY can't get a read off it either. Maybe the receivers are misfiring."

"Maybe." He turned the mic back on. "Tessa? Can you manually ping the receivers, please?"

"Sure thing." She reached up and hit the transmit button.

The signal came through strong and clear. Behind him, Tony growled and stomped over to his station. Bruce removed his glasses and gave his face a good rub. Now what?

"Oh, Dr. Banner? I gotta go. Unexpected guest." The video feed abruptly went dead, but the scruffy transmissions from Tessa's receivers continued. Bruce sighed. Oh well. It wasn't like they were benefitting from the exercise. He would just continue recording the transmissions and compare them to Tessa's debriefing later. Maybe he could parse something out of that.

Tony was not so relaxed about her terminating contact. He threw a grape at Bruce's head. "What are you doing? You just going to let her go like that?"

"What would you have me do, Tony? Take over her laptop and force open the video feed?"

"Uh, yeah. That's one way. Or tell Barton to go get her. Those receptors on her head are priceless."

Bruce turned slowly around on his stool and began staring at Tony. He would continue until he looked up. That was unacceptable. This one he couldn't just let go. Tony had to be instructed, led by the hand, for many things. For some reason, Bruce had been left with that responsibility. Maybe because, ironically, he had the most patience for it.

"Are you doing it with text because--what?" He pulled a face when he finally realized Bruce was staring. "Oh… uh, the receptors are priceless and so is she. So, we should get someone on that. Do I have to do it? Because I will, even though I know how you don't approve of how I talk to them. Hey, speaking of talking, you talked to Betty since you've been back this time?"

Bruce finally turned away. He wouldn't acknowledge Tony's diversionary tangent. Thankfully, his screen provided him an out. FRIDAY's transcription of the comms solved their little standoff. "We can leave it alone, as I think we should. She wasn't upset, but all the same, Wanda has already picked it up and Clint just confirmed he's heading Tessa's way to check in."

"Good. It'd be a shame to lose an asset."

"Tony. You really need to work on how you phrase things. The last thing you need is another reason for people to strongly dislike you."

It was a marvelous night for a moondance. A fantabulous night to refinance. _Or maybe it's to throw a lance?_ He couldn't remember. Didn't matter. _Forget about that feeling of running from something. That was silly._ He had a different feeling. Tonight would be a Spidey sighting. That, or he'd hang out with the pretty lady. She was four roofs over and he had an extra taco. Seemed the right choice.

"Wade. What a pleasant surprise." She had such a squishy smile. This one was only half squishy.

"Brought you a taco." He tossed one to her and then perched on the ledge beside her. "Well, I had a few extras. I gift it upon you. You're out late. After dark. Oooo. Thought you had a curfew, what with the super police being your bosses."

She chuckled and swung a pack onto his lap. It was a big bag but didn't weigh much. It was soft inside. Sweaters. So many sweaters. _How exciting!_

"Spiffy! Ellie likes blue."

Wade was very content to sit there crunching on his tacos and talking, but he was used to there being responses. At least his head voices responded and the pretty lady always had something nice to say to him. That night she was quiet. And something else was different. He looked around at the roof and nearly gave himself a hernia, but he finally figured it out. There was no tea. What the pretty lady was drinking that night was more his speed: cheap, warm beer.

Now, Wade never figured himself clever exactly. But he definitely knew that that meant something was wrong. "You need me to kill anyone, pretty lady?"

She scoffed and popped off another can from the pack. "It's not a thing killing can fix." She handed him the beer and took one for herself.

"I can also steal things. And blow them up."

She chugged about half her can and then patted his knee. "Unless you can go back in time and undo things, there's nothing anyone can do to fix this. … but thanks, Wade."

He didn't have anything to say, but the voice in his head figured that there should be. He worked that over for a while, but she spoke up first, after crushing her can onto the roof.

"Can you help with decision making, Wade?"

He leaned over and took the remainder of her six-pack away before she could free another. "There. I helped. That's all the help I can offer with decision making. You do get that I'm deranged, right?"

"I just figured chaotically eccentric."

"Awwww, that's sweet, but no. My decisions are bad ones. Here, have these back. They'll make you feel better."

She took them and drank one in one go. He was almost aroused. _Oh, who was he kidding, he definitely was_. _That was impressive_.

"Wade, why do you think normal people have sex?"

"Again, you're talking to the wrong dude. I don't know why normal people have sex, but in my experience it's for the emotional manipulation." Then he thought about all those gooey people and their gooey, messy lives. "Or because it feels real good, unlike most everything else, and you _never_ regret it afterwards. Oh, and it makes babies. … …" Now he was curious. _What was going on with the pretty lady_? "Why do _you_ think people do the do?"

She stared not down at the street as she answered, but far away, like a person on a romance novel cover. "I don't know… because they want something, I suppose. Just what that is, that's what I'm trying to figure out…"

"So, what do you want?"

She laughed, but not like what he'd said was funny. It was a laugh Wade knew well. "I don't know that either…"

The way she was sitting there, being so… something… it made him think about forgetting. Like there was something she wanted to forget, he could tell in her face. And then a big flash of red swirlies caught his eye. _She was there watching the power kids! How exciting!_ And urgent, something was urgent… something to do with red… _Focus! Question_.

"Hey, do you think your special friends down there are going to blow anything up this time?"

"Huh. Oh, uh, no. I hope not."

_There it was._ "Poop. Well, I've got to run, then. I pissed off this guy with excellent taste in outerwear and he hits really hard. I'm totally running from him, no shame. I just really don't want to re-descend my family jewels twice in one marvelous night for a moondance."

Standing up showed Wade that leaving just then was even more pressing. He did not want to get blood on these sweaters. "Oops, really gotta go, right now. Inbound Hawkguy. Looks pissed, I don't need puncture wounds _and_ internal bleeding. Thanks, pretty lady! I hope you figure out your sex problem!"

It didn't really matter that he didn't make the jump. The sweaters were safe in the bag. No blood. Besides, it was a fantabulous night to make romance! So nice to remember the words.

Clint heard what sounded like a cat being thrown from a window as he reached the roof. If he weren't so concerned with Tessa being secure, he would have checked it out. At least it came from the opposite direction of her silhouette.

"Are you alright?" He asked her between huffs. He'd gotten out of shape after being shot, needed to work on that. More cardio.

Tessa looked him over and then made the most school-teacher-like face he'd ever seen. "You're going to have to try that again, and enunciate."

"Oh, you heard me. Are you alright?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She waved around. "Of course I'm alright. Do you see any reason I shouldn't be?"

Clint did actually. She was looking right at it. He squatted down beside her, time to man up and face this. "No, that's not what I'm talking about. I think you know that. Last week… I… Look, last week I shouldn't have--"

Tessa sighed heavily and dropped the indifference, stopping him with a pat on the shoulder. "No, it wasn't you who shouldn't have. Actually, you didn't. I did. It was my fault. I needed comfort, you provided it. I appreciate that, Clint, and I suppose I really should have just said that instead of treating you like some kind of pariah. So… this is me stopping from acting like a child and moving on. I'm sorry. I'm done sulking. I'll go back to… just being normal around you. And maybe try to stay the hell away from Drew."

Clint stood back up, feeling relieved. "Good idea… And, uh," he scuffed his toe of his boot on the roof as he tried to figure out the next part. "For my part, it won't happen again. I won't… take advantage of you again."

"You didn't. It was just a one-time flub."

"Exactly. Product of the moment." He clapped his hands as if that sealed the deal.

Tessa stood suddenly, wobbling a little. He moved to catch her but she grabbed him and jerked his arm up. "Your shirt, Clint. You're bleeding. Again!" That seemed to upset her immensely, which he had to admit made sense.

It took him a moment to realize he should assure her that it wasn't serious. "Oh, yeah, that. No big deal, really. Just got clipped by a car door. Yeah, those behemoths ripped a door off a car purely for the sake of hurling it at me. But, I'm okay. See?" He pulled up his shirt to show the makeshift bandage he already had on it. It really wasn't bad, just got his side right below his ribs. "I'm not even dizzy or anything." Winded, but now was not the time to admit that.

Clint waited patiently as Tess felt around the bandage, until she was content with it actually not being too bad. She took her sweet time and when she stepped back, she was withdrawn, her eyes sad.

"You could so easily die down there…" she whispered. "Any of us could. It's like flipping a coin." She was having the realization. They all had it at some point or other. They were dust in the wind. Clint had it repeatedly, always accompanied by heavy drinking. He noticed she was on her way there, a six pack empty and scattered over the roof.

"Yeah… I know. I've seen it come up tails, makes you wonder if those nihilists have the right…idea. … But we've been lucky so far. No point in dwelling on it, though. Promise."

Tessa was dwelling though. Clint pulled his shirt back down and cleared his throat. "Uh, if you want to talk about it, Banner's pretty good at--"

"All this, the choice, volition? It's all just a shiny veneer in the face of the great, black void. Isn't it?"

He tugged at his ear. "Yeah… that's the feeling you get sometimes. Hey, you ready to get back…?"

She didn't seem to actually hear him, just stared at his chest, where his gash was. Clint ruffled his hair, considered protocol for her events. But she was calm, not frantic. Really, Tessa just seemed to be having a prolonged moment of doubt about everything. Reasonable enough. He let her have it.

"To feel better," she mumbled suddenly, with a blink. Her eyes were clear when she looked up at him.

"What?"

"Take off your gear." Her hands were quick. She had his pants unfastened before he could process that it was a bad idea. Then, his brain turned off.

It wasn't allowed to stay turned off for long. Somewhere in between 'unlatch bra' and 'put on condom' Tessa's laptop lit up. Used to guilty reflexes, Clint dove out of sight in time, before he even realized it was Banner's face on the screen.

"Tessa? Tessa? Are you there? We just got something, pretty clear, actually. Is someone injured?"

She was out of the ring of light from the screen, a bit to Clint's left. She grabbed her shirt and, yanking the receptors off her temples, scrambled over to the computer. "No, gotta go," she said and then snapped it closed.

Clint had found his pants. "What in the hell is wrong with us?"

"Just trying to laugh into the void, I guess," she replied quietly, gathering up her stuff. "Why do you have sex, Clint?"

"Why?" He snorted. "Why? … Why. … Uh… to, uh, to disappear into someone else, I think, to not be alone with myself. … Why do you?"

She shrugged. "To feel better, I think. … That is, when I have the choice. Here's your quiver. We better check in with Wanda. They'll be wondering why we were inactive on the comms for so long."

Oddly enough, the rest of their evening was not the awkward shit fest the past week had been. Tessa kept her word and just continued acting like nothing had happened, even though something had nearly happened again, not hours before. Clint tried to do the same. The drinking both helped and hurt that effort. At Tessa's suggestion, they had started drinking not a second after arriving back at the Tower, and with a strange group, to say the least.

After assuring them all that Clint's injury was but a flesh wound, Helen stayed in the lounge, took off her lab coat, and made a killer martini. To everyone's surprise, Wanda stayed also and her constant companion, the Vision. Wanda even drank. Heavily. She certainly had as much cause as the rest of them, probably more. And she drank like it. Too bad the Vision didn't partake. That would have been outstandingly wild.

"Well, at least this time we can celebrate a success. You guys are getting much better."

Glasses and bottles clinked against Clint's.

"Yes, we can always judge that by just how severe your injuries are, Barton."

"Thanks, Helen."

Wanda finished off her glass and gave a small smile. "Indeed. Success is no casualties." She stood. "It is late now, but I have enjoyed the company. Hopefully, we'll celebrate more often. Good night, team."

As she swept out, the Vision also stood and excused himself. Before he was even out of earshot, that sent Tessa into a tizzy. She had maybe drank too much by that point. "He's like her little robot puppy," she giggled into her bottle.

"I wouldn't say puppy," Helen muttered but also stood. "As much as I would enjoy delving into the implications of that with you, I've already said too much and I have lab in the morning with Stark. Who, as I think about it, is the bad influence that me made say that. Enjoy the rest of your night."

Tessa took the rest of Cho's drink from her and flopped over the couch where she'd been sitting. "Don't forget your lab coat. And don't bring it next time, I much prefer your theories on Wanda and Vision's relationship."

"Don't overdo it, you two," Helen warned and then promptly made it not her business anymore.

"Okay, so Helen thinks they're more than inseparable friends. What do you think, Clint?"

"Oh, god. Who knows. I try not to think about those things. I hope no one does, about anyone else in this place. That's… that's how things get messy. You know?"

She scoffed. "Uh, yeah. I know. And you're no fun. Where's my phone? I wanna call Jess and ask her. She always has a'pinion about this sorta thing."

"I have no idea and I think that's for th'best. What time is it even? Prob'ly not a decent time to call." Hearing himself, it occurred to Clint that he'd possibly drank too much also.

"Nonsense! I feel great!"

"Awww, I heard Cho come out. Were you guys drinking without me?"

They both spun around. Drew was in the doorway, frowning in her pajamas. She looked fucking incredible. Tessa wrenched around and swung at Clint, missing by a mile.

"We should have invited Drew! What were we thinking?!"

"You should have. I was bored out of my mind. I repainted my nails twice. You like?" She flopped down on the couch between them and laid her legs over Tessa's lap.

"Yes. You have very nice… nails."

"Hey!" There it went again, Clint's automatic talking. "Remember when we all had sex?! That… that was a mistake. I'm sorry. Let's not ever do that again." The recovery didn't go so smoothly. He looked at Tessa to apologize, but she was ogling at Drew.

Drew nodded, taking a swig from Tessa's bottle. "Yeah, I remember, but apparently not like you, Clint. I wouldn't call it a mistake and I wouldn't suggest never doing it again. I mean, it's apparently the one thing I'm good at and now I know I also enjoy the company of women. So, that's fun and enlightening. Actually, I would highly recommend doing it again."

Tess had nodded along with everything Drew had said like a woman entranced. Out of nowhere she perked up and practically shouted at them. "I think we should all have casual sex! I need it. You guys were good. It's a good plan. I vote for sex. I just don't wanna talk 'bout it or explain myself. Ever. Deal?"

Clint had never agreed to a deal so quickly. Or without so little thought, and that was saying something.


	11. It Catches Up With You

There were so many goddamn floors on the Avengers Tower, but at least that gave him a chance to try out his suction cup gear. That guy had snake oiled him for sure. That Irish lady in the elevator sure was not so happy about him bleeding on the floor. If he could've found her she'd've felt different about it. All the same, he made it to the pretty lady's floor and had even stopped bleeding by the time he barged in without knocking. They were friends now, so he was sure that was okay.

"Oh, Wade, there you are. I was wondering when I'd see you next. I have something--well, a few things for you." She put down the big book that he was surprised her little arms could support and bounced over to a desk thingy. More clothes, Ellie would be so not naked. "Here. You mentioned warm things, so mostly wool, but I threw a cotton dress in there for home. She'll probably outgrow it before it gets to the right season but there it is all the same."

She took them out of his hands and packed them into another canvas bag. She was making those too, he guessed. Something was different… _She wasn't unhappy._ Yes, that was it.

"So, you seem less like you're living with a crap ton of regrets today." He accepted the tea and then the weird triangular biscuit she held out in his face. "Did you figure out your sex problem? Mmm… yummy pie slice biscuit."

"It's a scone. And more or less. Well… I have a working solution. So, what's going on with the potato?"

Wade remembered what was in his other hand now. "Ellie is amazing!"

He liked the pretty lady because she didn't jump and scowl when he did something theatrical like slam a huge Idaho spud down onto a table. She nodded and waited patiently as he pulled out the little pieces from Ellie's project from his pocket. He'd have done better in school --not as good as Ellie, but better-- with a teacher like her. Lucky kids.

"She made a clock work with just a potato! She's bitchin' smart. Here, she showed me how. Look." He kept pulling random shit out of his pockets. He probably should have gotten rid of those vienna sausages years ago. _Oh. A thing_. "Here, this was for you."

"Oh, how sweet. Tell Ellie thank you."

"That was from me. Got bored waiting for that moron to kick it yesterday. You like the garbage truck?"

"Yes, very realistic." She smoothed out the paper and set it on her table. "You have a very discerning palette with colors."

"Yeah. I like red. Ah-ha! I forgot about these, but there. That's also for you." He found the stabby parts finally and immediately jammed them into the potato (his favorite part), but also gave her the book he'd nabbed while looking for the stabby bits.

She gave him a full squishy smile as she took the book. "I've been looking for a Heller with the right amount of character. Thank you, Wade."

"Welcome. Hmm… I think she said there was something to do with the juices. Well, she made it run with the potato." He stood back from his non-functional yet masterful piece of work. It was absolutely hideous and he loved it.

"You could probably get that into the Met," she said thoughtfully and dead serious. "You know what it needs? A fish hook."

"Oh! I have one of those. For reasons!" He was just ramming it into the tater when he heard the gasp of someone without their refined artistic sensibilities.

"Tess, step away from the lunatic mercenary who somehow wandered into the Tower and who will be put on the do not admit list immediately." It was the Hawk dude, pointing one of his ouchie arrows at Wade. He recognized this type, it hurt a lot coming back out, because of the barbs. He had a suspicion they were designed just for him.

"Who? Wade?" The pretty lady kept on fiddling with the potato without even looking up. "He won't hurt me. He's my friend."

"Deadpool? He's a psychotic murderer. He doesn't have friends." It was a bummer how he still hadn't put down that bow. Wade was going to be digging that thing out of him for a while. And he couldn't retaliate because that would upset the pretty lady.

"Sure, and in some countries so is Tony Stark. He has friends and so does Wade. Me. Look he brought me a book for my collection. First edition Heller."

"Brought it from this hoarder that died in my building."

He finally lowered that arrow then. "Charming." And then he did the thing that explained all the pent up hostility. He moved between him and her in a very pelvis forward way. They were having sex. _He was her working solution!_ That made sense. Yeah, he could see that. _Would pay to see that_. Anyway, she was talking.

"…and we'll have the old sock smell off of it in no time. And, Wade, tell Ellie, if she's interested, I have some connections in the local prep schools, I could get her in for the science and engineering track next year. Also make her uniform. Here, take these since you like them so much. I made too many as it was." She wrapped some of the puffy flaky things in a cloth and handed to him.

"Thanks, pretty lady. Hawkguy." Wade scampered out of the room, but made a point to pat the top of her head on the way out, just to see what arrow dude would do. Sadly, he didn't do anything ridiculously macho, just raised a confused eyebrow.

That eyebrow stayed raised for a while. The whole thing was pretty confusing. Clint turned and just kind of gawked at Tess. "Really?"

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, uncross your arms, there's no reason to show off the guns now. He's gone. And not a reason to do that anyways because this is a no strings attached deal, but I suppose sexual competition does drive most human interactions… What was I saying? I'm actually really upsettingly turned on by your act of possessiveness, which really probably puts my self-respect as a woman back a few decades… anyway. Ahem…" Her whole composure had really unwound in under thirty seconds.

"But Deadpool, Tess? He's dangerous."

She scrunched up her face and waved her hands a bit. "Oh, I know! He told me himself, but he's really not. Not to me. He's actually nice to me, brings me books and tea. And drawings, like a student. And that's all, no danger, except for the potatoes." She waved towards the fairly eviscerated potato randomly sitting on her desk.

The man was undoubtedly insane. But Clint had to let that go for now, in favor of the other lunatic on his mind. "If you say so. Come on, we've got a menace on the loose. Probably a friend of Deadpool's. You comfortable going in that?"

Tessa nodded as she looked down at her clothes. "Who else is coming?"

"Just me and you this time. But…" he remembered the parcel he'd left outside when he'd set it down in exchange for his bow. "Got this in the mail. Brought it up since I thought you might want it for this outing."

"That… that was awfully nice of her."

Clint winced as he read the card she held out to him. Nat couldn't help herself. Tessa was pouting, and for a pretty good reason. "Yeah, she makes it hard, doesn't she? Come on, this tool's been sniping people like crazy. Hitman with a phonebook sized record. I'm gonna bring him in. Finally."

Tessa paused, having packed the new tea set in her little knitted padding and then in her satchel. "Question. Do we have time to have aggressive sex against that wall?"

"No," Clint groaned as he glanced at that particular wall and saw that particular suggestion in vivid detail. "Sadly, no. He's actively shooting people right now. As in, having this conversation is literally endangering the public."

"You should have led with that instead of scolding me about my friends. Damn. When we get back?"

He shut the door behind them. "No question. When we get back." It was all planned out on the ride, in his head, of course. He didn't like to let Tessa know how much he invested in their trysts, mostly because she insisted it be casual, a convenient outlet for the three of them.

It was still on his mind when he set her up on the roof, actually. He needed to get his shit together, couldn't have a fucking sex daydream while trying to capture a psychopath. Erections didn't help his aim. Tessa on the other hand was cool and collected. "So… you're heading towards the city?"

Clint snapped around. "Yeah. That way. You know the drill: stay low, stay alert. Really this time, Tess. He's a sniper so this is more important than normal. That means no sitting on the ledge, knitting." No fantasizing either. Why'd she have to propose that right before mission?

"It's crocheting today. And I'll be fine, Clint. Go on, I'm good here. This isn't my first time."  

She didn't mean for the sexual entendre in that phrase. She couldn't have, it wasn't her style. Tessa didn't flirt, didn't intrigue. That's what Clint kept telling himself as he headed to his roost, decidedly not thinking about him and her and Drew later, all limbs and sweat. And that stupid, forever sexualized wall.

Heading the same way but across town, Wade was skipping around. Ellie was happy, that job had been easy. Time for a six pack then home. But first, since Ellie'd said he'd been on the television, a quick rooftop scan for the big SM. Up a trusty fire escape, he found a spot that wasn't covered in bird shit and dead rats and began setting up his scope.

"Spider-man, spider-man, does whatever a spider can!" He had a song on his lips and hope in his heart. Today was his day. "Spins a web, with his thighs, can't you see? To catch guys! Hey!" No luck, just the flash of the sun on another scope.

"Huh, someone else with a scope…" He looked closer. "Oh, Lester! Wonder what he's been up to that ole scallywag."

Following the line of Lester's scope, Wade suddenly had a feeling in his gut he had been having a bit too often lately. This was why he didn't make friends, have a family. "Oh… oh, no." Lester's scope was lined up in sight of another flash of light on metal, this one two pointy things attached to his new friend. Tessa and her hook sticks.

"Fuck. Fuck me sideways. No!" He couldn't move fast enough, but he tried anyways. Kicked his gun out of the way and just took off in her direction. He wasn't Spider-Man, couldn't just swing over there and as hard as he tried, his long jump was just not up to snuff. Running on a broken leg would have to do it. He knew her building, though. Luckily it was her favorite, the one she almost always ended up on. That one had a good fire escape. Too bad he chose the wrong one, must've been the blood loss.

A roof over, and with a bone sticking out of his pant leg, he had to stop. He cracked it into place as he hollered at her, screamed as loud as he could, bloody murder. "TESSA!" He was barreling her way again when she finally heard him.

But she did the wrong thing. She stood up to shout back, put herself right into perfect shot. "Wade? What're you--"

"GET DOWN, TESSA! GET FLAT DOWN!" Somehow he made that jump.  

She was confused, didn't listen. Just stayed standing there. "What?"

Wade had actually made it in time. He had. The five sharp jabs in his back caught him just as he jumped in front of her. Perfect timing. They knocked the wind out of him, but he got up quickly. Had to check on her. She was kneeling, looking at the little half-done hat in her hands. It was red now.

She frowned, "there's… blood on this now… Sorry… Wade… I didn't… I didn't mean… to…"

He caught her as she tumbled back, her head lolling. Those five sharp jabs, only two of them had stuck in him.

A block away, Clint could feel himself shouting but couldn't hear it. Somehow he got to that roof, but didn't remember how. Deadpool was just standing there, staring like some fucking idiot. Clint shoved him out of the way and knelt over Tessa. He had to stop the bleeding. Had to stop it. Didn't have enough hands. Three holes, three hands. Needed more.

"High caliber rounds," Deadpool muttered. "My suit didn't even slow them down. Sword stopped two." Why was he talking? Why was he always talking? Why wasn't he helping?

"You have hands! We have to stop the bleeding!"

He didn't move. Just kept talking. "She just stood out in the open, sitting duck. What did she do to Bullseye?"

Clint didn't think. He just turned around and slammed his fist into that mouth. "SHE DID NOTHING! Now help me get her to a car!"

Six blocks south a fire escape rattled and a cat took off. The shots were so loud. That was heavy duty ammunition. The smell of blood got sharply stronger. They had found their target. By the time he got to the blood, it was cold. And there was way too much of it for its source to have left on their own.

He shook his head. What a waste. All that was left from the scuffle on the roof was a broken porcelain cup and one round dug into a wall. With it and the pieces of the teacup in hand he headed home. Now he had something to work off of.

At the back entrance of the Tower, Dr. Cho stood waiting. She stood there, hardly moved as they laid Tessa on a gurney. It took just a touch, a look.

"Time of death, two fift--" Clint didn't hear anything after that. He turned away, couldn't stand to watch her being carted inside, like a corpse. She'd just been alive, talking about being experienced, about having sex. She wasn't dead.

Deadpool was still there, strangely silent. Clint forgot about him in his silence, paced around him. Then, that mouth.

"She shouldn't have been up there. Even I know that. Not with Bulls--"

He didn't put up a fight when Clint laid into him, hardly moved as he wailed on him and bones cracked under his knuckles. "This is your fault! You distracted her! You and your big, fucking mouth! She wouldn't have been in his sights if you hadn't come in screaming like a goddamned moron! She's dead because of you…" his hand dropped before he could throw the next punch. All the strength had just sapped from him. His whole body sagged and Deadpool dropped to the ground. "Sh--she's dead… We got her… killed."

There were some gurgling wheezes between the two of them as they tried to gain their feet again, but no more violence, no more shouting. Deadpool was the first to find his. He spit out some teeth on the ground and then pulled his mask back down. "Leave Bullseye to me," he rasped. Clint didn't hear him again. He was gone when Banner came out to collect Clint.

His left hand was all busted to hell. Clint didn't feel it. He sat inside, in the antechamber to the surgery, and stared at the blood spatters on Tessa's tea set. He stared at them as Natasha ran down the hallway, stared as she asked where she was.

"They were so bright, but now they've darkened… it was my fault. We were distracted…" He kept staring, mumbling the same thing even when her foot falls stuttered and then faded away.

He could hear muffled shouting past the hermetically sealed doors. Natasha, her voice raised and tight, Tony just as loud but looser. Then a smack of flesh on flesh and Natasha came storming out, flexing her hand. Her stomping slowed to a trudge, then she sat weakly beside him, collapsing but with hesitation and exhaustion at once.

"It's my fault," he repeated, still staring at the tea set. The room stayed silent then.

After a moment, Natasha gently picked up the tea pot, careful to not smudge the blood. "There was a cup," she said, just above a whisper. "Another cup. Where's the other cup?"

Clint left without saying anything. He was going to get cup. But like Tessa, that cup was gone. He only found the muted stain of her on the rooftop. That was when he broke. That was when the tears came. He sobbed, alone on that rooftop, oblivious to the phone ringing in his pocket. When his throat was like sandpaper and his eyes were swollen nearly shut, he finally heard it. The screen informed him that he'd missed twelve calls. The lack of sun in the sky told him he'd been on that roof for a long time.

His phone rang again. It almost startled him, lighting up and chirruping in his hand like nothing had happened. Without thinking he answered it.

"So, you forgot my birthday, ass… and I've been calling you all day." It was Kate. Wonderful, infuriating, still-breathing Kate. "Are you still going to--"

"Take Lucky," Clint interrupted her, startled again, this time at how composed he managed to sound. "Take Lucky and get out of town, Katie. I mean it. I'm not someone you need in your life right now. I… I can't even… remember your birthday." He hung up, before he could hear her indignant response, and began his trudge back to the Tower.


	12. Pick up the Pieces

Tessa's murder was a tragedy, but it was also an opportunity. All the same, Tony could have and should have probably phrased that better to Natasha. Then maybe he would have been able to see out of both his eyes. He was going to try again now. But stepping out of the surgical theater, he found her to be still just as unreceptive. She kept her back turned on him as she talked on the phone in thick whispers, telling someone else about the tragedy.

They were all gathered there, though. He decided to make his case again, nonetheless, arguing for making this a win-win instead of a lose-lose. "I told you all before, Aristo came to me because Mnemosyne needs a host not just a vessel. That means something--someone independent of her consciousness to remember and house her, because her survival is contingent upon being remembered just as she remembers. Hence me. I make androids now, apparently."

"Get to the point, Tony," Bruce warned, a few steps behind him. He was right, even catatonic Barton looked to be just about over Tony's spiel.

"Right, or… okay, so I made just one… And we thought he, Vision, would be perfect, but the mind gem prevents the symbiosis. And without the mind gem's influence, we can't replicate a consciousness like Vision's. We wanted AI because it's notionally immortal and it's memory is perfect. But again, no dice… But Tessa… Tessa was so close to perfect. She would never forget, but she would age and eventually stop remembering. Now, though. Now she's perfect. She's the perfect subject for this procedure."

Everyone's attention snapped onto him. It only dawned on him after he grinned proudly that it was not a good sort of attention.

"Perfect because Mnemosyne will bind to her body in addition to her mind… she can be alive again. Indefinitely."

"Wait, wait. Are you saying you want to use Mnemosyne to revive Tessa? Or use Tessa to save Mnemosyne?" Natasha was glaring at him, phone still to her ear.

"Yes. With Wanda's help, I can. We'll have to meld her physical manifestation to Tessa's body. Aristo says she has enough power left to do the rest, to revive Tessa. From then, with her body back, she'll bind to Tessa's mind. They'll be one entity, or rather, theoretically, Tessa will take on what's left of Mnemosyne, in totality. In a perfect world, we'd ask her if that was okay, but… this isn't one. This is a matter of life or death for two beings. I don't see the difficulty you're all having." He looked around the room, frankly astounded that they were being so cold to this.

Natasha sighed loudly. "Of course you wouldn't, Stark," she said on her way out. "You can't see past the end of your nose when it comes to your ambition! Volition is important, Tony!" She stopped in the doorway, gesturing with each word. "I won't be a part of this and you're lucky Steve isn't here. You may have won over Banner because he's partial to you--and Tessa--but we see you. I'm going to make funeral arrangements for my friend, not consolidate an asset!"

The room echoed with the slamming of the door. Wanda approached from the sidelines, face dark. She looked him up and down in that way she had and then shook her head. "If it were my brother, I would support this. But it is not, and it is not my choice, nor yours. You are no god, Tony Stark. Do not make his choices for him."

Uncharacteristically, Vision lagged a moment behind the Witch. He landed and looked down at Tony with unspoken empathy. "There are numerous ethical dilemmas surrounding this, Mr. Stark," he finally said, sounding gut-wrenchingly like JARVIS without actually being that old, constant friend. "I would not advise risking the ramifications, as clear as the moral decision appears to you."

The sound of the door sealing behind him told Tony that even Bruce had abandoned the campaign. Barton alone was left with him in that room. He was sitting on the floor in the corner with his head in his hands. Tony doubted he even knew what was happening around him since his hearing aid was strewn on the chair in front of him.

Tony kicked a cup across the room and clicked his teeth. "Good thing Steve isn't here, then, I guess." He walked back into the lab where Bruce and Cho were with the body. Bruce was bent oven in his chair, looking about as well off as Clint in the next room. Helen was monitoring the stasis chamber's readings, her face empty. Medical objectivity.

"What did they say?" She asked.

Tony cast an eye Bruce's way before answering, just in case. He didn't look up. "Mixed reviews. I'm the swing vote. We're doing this."

"And where is Ms. Maximoff?"

"She was on the other side. We have some energy of hers bottled somewhere around here for testing, don't we?"

"Yes, but we don't know how to use it. … Maybe we should contact Dr. Strange or King--"

"Those wet noodles?" Tony scoffed, hearing his bravado falter. "No, we'll just feed it to Mnemosyne. She'll use it like a big, juicy battery and take care of it herself. She knows best anyway, cosmic entity and all."

That won Cho over. She nodded and collected up her tablet. "Alright, let's get this going…"

But not Bruce. He sighed, heavily, and stood. "I can't be a part of this either, I changed my mind. I won't stop you, but I advise against it, like the rest." He exited by the back door to his room.

Tony waved off the look of Cho. "It's fine. Uh, FRIDAY? Do me a favor…"

They regrouped in the lobby, Natasha and the others she didn't quite see. They arrived down there just in time to see Jessica Jones come stumbling in like a woman in a daze. Her eyes were hollow, her cheeks raw, but she was composed.

"When… uh… when do we get to see her?"

Natasha shook her head, wishing she had a different answer. "I don't know, I'm sorry. I wasn't able to deal with Stark just then. He was… never mind. If you can talk to the funeral home --I'm on hold. If you can speak with the funeral home, I'll go get him to bring her into a viewing room."

As she was handing off the phone Natasha caught sight of something charging towards the door, all black hair and rage. Kate Bishop. How in the world had she found out? Natasha felt infinitely heavier. "Has anyone seen Barton?"

Vision stood up and away from Wanda, who was mumbling something, a prayer. "He was seated in the briefing room, distraught. He had removed his hearing device. I did not see him leave."

Natasha nodded, her mind made up. "Someone detain Bishop. He can't deal with her quite yet… Drew, could you? I know you're just getting your head around all this too, but we could use some calm to control Bishop." Drew headed to the door, raining tissues. Natasha kept on her course to the elevator.

Her head was buzzing. Somewhere between pain and numbness she'd found a neutral space where she didn't have to think about what was happening or what she had to do. Natasha found cruise control. And that was where she stayed. The problem with that plan was that it made her less alert. The fact that the elevator wasn't actually moving didn't dawn on her when it should have. She stood there, eyes glazed over, for far too long, wasted so much time. She was slow to act too when she did realize. Just asked a pointless question.

"FRIDAY?! FRIDAY, what's going on?" She knew what was going on. This was an old move of Stark's.

"I apologize, Agent Romanoff. The facilities have been disengaged."

The elevator had never moved, in fact. The doors had just closed and sealed her in. But it was an old move of Stark's. Moves only worked on Natasha once, if they worked at all, even when she was dulled. The magnetic seal on the doors shorted out easily and she clambered out and into the entry hall before FRIDAY could engage additional protocols.

The utility and emergency stairwell was down the hall. Natasha hauled ass towards and then up them, ignoring the burning in her lungs and legs. Steve, she needed to call Steve, hoped her breath would hold out the dozens of floors and a call. The adrenaline helped.

"Natasha. What's wrong?"

"Code red," she huffed. "Stark's rogue."

"What has he done now?

"Reanimating… Tessa's corpse… with Mnemosyne." It was getting much harder to breathe. She had too many floors yet to go.

"Son of a bitch," Steve mumbled on the other end of the line. "I'll be there as quickly as I can."

Natasha may have just dropped her phone in the stairwell. She couldn't be sure. Next thing she was consciously aware of was the slam of the door as she busted into the briefing room. Clint was still sitting there, but her entrance roused him. He put his hearing aid back in and scrambled to his feet.

"What in the hell? Did you run up here?"

"YES." She was catching her breath but it was a struggle. She flapped an arm at the lab door. "Gotta get in there."

Clint looked between her and the door before turning a very violent shade of red. "He isn't!"

Natasha nodded, her hands over her head. "Arrows?"

He shook his head. "In my room."

They both lunged at the doors then, but it was pointless. They were sealed from the inside, quarantine tight. There was only one way in there.

"Wait, watch," Natasha barked, not believing she was about to run all the way back down there. "I'm getting our way in there. You know what to do if you get in or they come out."

Running down the stairs was not nearly the same ordeal, except for when her legs became jelly beneath her. Still, she made back into the lobby in good time and definitely got their attention as came huffing and skidding in. Jessica's voice trailed off, even Bishop shut up. Natasha must have looked berserk, but it did the job. Vision stood immediately, Maximoff's face dropped.

"Oh… He is not."

She needed only to look at the two of them and they responded. Vision took off, phasing through the ceiling upwards at a speed Natasha couldn't have achieved with the elevator. Wanda dashed for the stairs, Natasha unbelievably neck and neck with her, the Jessicas and Bishop on their heels. They all somehow knew the terrible thing that was happening and they were going to do everything they could to stop it. Thankfully, Wanda was much improved at her magic. The stairs flew by beneath them.

Unfortunately, Natasha had dallied mindlessly too long in that elevator car. They were not even to the tenth floor when the blast of purple blew them backwards and Natasha saw the entire course of her life before her eyes again.


	13. Hangover from Hell

You know how it feels when you wake up from blacking out on raspberry vodka and lemonade? Specifically, how you can hear your eyelashes? How they sound like a steel pipe run over corrugated roofing? Well, imagine that and then make the clanging into words that don't connect into sentences. Add flashes of light and strange colors. Add disorienting smells from things that don't match and the taste of everything you've ever and never put in your mouth, all at once. Mix in the feeling of pain and joy and grief and warmth and cold. Shake well and then maybe you'd have a miniscule, stunted idea of the sensory overload that greeted Tessa upon her resurrection.

For an endless moment, she didn't even know her name, didn't know what she was or if she was. She couldn't sense where her body started and the universe ended, couldn't spare the attention to worry about its lack. There was just the bombardment. But all that noise, it had a pattern to it, like ants on a screen when the cable goes out. It dulled in all its stimulation eventually.  

Then, only then, Tessa began parsing things out. She found her eyes, opened them. Found her fingers, clenched them. Found her voice and screamed. She screamed until she couldn't hear it at all, only feel the way it tore around itself. The sensations bled into the rest. It was everywhere, the bombardment, ubiquitous nonsense. Until it wasn't, until it was twenty thousand little theaters, each with their own little play, rushing into Tessa's head.

They mixed and mingled, but eventually grew bored of one another and began sharpening. Tessa could pick out things she recognized, people she knew. She could focus on those, and when she found them, vanished into them. Each was its own rabbit hole. Thousands of interlocking, interloping, interchanging rabbit holes. She was Tony Stark, alone and panicking in a cave, a tube in his nose and the taste of metal in his mouth. Then, Natalia, running through fire and ignoring the scorch of skin and hair around her. She was the fire.

And then suddenly, it was smaller. It faded away into background noise and Tessa knew herself from them. Her eyes were still open, but now they were seeing. They were looking at someone, someone she knew. She was from tiny place with a mighty race, and had lost everything she'd loved. Wanda. Her hand was on her arm, tight like a vice. She was talking, but Tessa couldn't find that yet, her words. There was still too much noise in her head, like she was between radio channels.

Her throat was raw, scratchy. She tried to speak: water. Her mouth didn't move but Wanda nodded. A glass appeared, attached to an arm Tessa recognized. That scar, a bullet hole. The one below it, a burn. Clint.

"At least she isn't screaming. Is she with us now? She's looking at me."

She could hear. That was his voice, belonged to him. She focused on that. But her focus was too effective. It took her away again, to him. To Clint yelling, in pain. To silence but a ringing that dominated everything else at the same time. Smashing, splintering, the cracking of bones under his hand. Wade coughing up teeth. A teapot painted red, her teapot…

Like a switch flipped, she was back. Hands were on her face, cold and slender, and a pair of eyes, glowing red, were before her.

"I found her. Tessa. Focus on us, now. Watch the words from our mouths. Yes?"

Her head felt like it could move. She willed it to nod and it did. Clint dropped into view, brow knitted over dark circles. He looked horrible. There were red splotches all over his shirt. Tessa realized it was blood. Something told her it was hers. His hands were bandaged. Wade's face had done that, she just knew it.

"Oh… thank god, the white is fading." He was speaking as if she weren't in the room. But she was, she was looking right into his eyes. "Hey, Tess. Can you hear me?" She nodded again, it felt like her head was full of water, sloshing. But it made him look less dire. "Good. How're ya feeling?"

"Can you not talk?" That was Wanda, with her gentle accent.

The words must not have made it past Tessa's lips. She tried the alternative, reached for her neck, rubbed it and then somehow croaked out, "yes."

Several people sighed around her, Clint one of them. He helped tip a glass of water to her lips. "You had us worried there for a while, Bisho," he whispered as she gulped. "Your eyes are purple now. It's weird, but cool… just thought you should know that." He stepped away, taking the empty glass with him.

Tessa reached out, caught the hem of his shirt weakly. Her arm, her fingers were slow and clumsy, like they were on loan from someone else. "Clint, what happened? Why don't I remember?" She rasped, not recognizing her own voice.

The feeling of the frown on his face was more familiar than her own. "It's too complicated for me," he answered, eyes flitting behind her. "Strange will tell you. I'll be back in a bit." It didn't take much to tear his shirt from her grasp. Really, it was a miracle she kept clinging to it that long. She watched him leave and felt the ground shifting, shifting onto Wanda, who was still there.

She was still there, her hand on the back of Tessa's neck. How had she not realized that? As that washed over her and Wanda's eyes flared red, a movement in the back of the room caught Tessa's mind. Tall, severe, his hands behind his back. Doctor Strange. A barrage of sensations flared up as she recalled him, but faded back to white noise before he reached her. Wanda held her eye for a second and asked a silent question. Tessa nodded and, with a quick tightening of her jaw, Wanda took her hand from Tessa's neck. That opened the dam, but Tessa kept her head above water long enough to watch Strange's mouth.

"Are you still with us, here and now?" He asked, nearly drowned out.

But Tessa managed a nod and took the outstretched hand he offered. If Wanda had been a lifesaver Strange was a raft. Tessa drew a shuddering breath as she felt her brain align. "I am."

"Good… because this will require all your attention."

Six hours and eleven lapses in focus later, Tessa was alone in a thrumming MRI. Well, not alone. She would never be alone with her thoughts again. Everyone else's pasts were up there making a ruckus now and Tessa had to fight not to drown in them. They were dark and mired in sticky secrets to draw her in and entangle her, always whispering from the corners of her head. At that very moment, she was staying in herself by reciting Joyce's _Ulysses._  

The Captain had arrived at some point, during one of Tessa's vacancies, along with King T'Challa. There had been a lot of yelling, when she came back around, Stark against the rest. The room hissed, its hermetic seal broken. Vision. He had stayed in the operating booth keeping watch on her. He was best for that, his was the quietest presence. There were things there, but it like they were in a different format, didn't whisper so loudly. And he seemed to understand what the others didn't, becoming something else.

"Is there anything you require, Dr. Bisho?" He must have sensed her pause in _Ulysses._

Tessa quietly replied, "no, thank you," and resumed with the next chapter. She recited and didn't focus on the vignettes on the periphery of her consciousness.

"The scans are complete, Dr. Bisho." The platform below her moved smoothly out of the machine and the thrumming slowed to a halt. With the silence came a resurgence of noise and Tessa had to concentrate soundly on the lightly modulated tone of the Vision's voice. "It appears your brain is unblemished, apart from the trauma it sustained earlier in life. Fortunately, your systems are incorporating the symbiotic influences seamlessly."

She groaned as she sat up. "Yes, thank you, JARVIS."

"Vision, doctor…"

"Right, of course, Vision. I'm sorry."

"I understand, doctor. Entirely. I am to escort you to the upper deck lounge. The others are waiting to have a discussion about your situation."

"Lovely." That was, in fact, not lovely.

All she wanted to do was lock herself in a lead-insulated box and sleep for several lifetimes. Nonetheless, she slipped to the floor and headed for the door, leaning heavily on the Vision. Still, her body was not cooperating with Tessa well.

In the elevator, she asked him, "is it weird for you, having a physical form?"

Tessa knew before he spoke. It was in her head, the confusion and frustration, the unnamed sensations and realizations. That flashed in his face too as he looked down at her. "Yes, it is. Very… weird."

"I totally get that right now… it's like my skin's… too tight, my bones too small. Not quite… wired properly."

"That is your nerves regenerating, doctor. You were deceased for six hours."

"Will that ever stop being weird? Hearing that I was dead… uh… do I smell? Like I'm rotting?"

"No, you were immediately put into a stasis tube to preserve your grey matter."

"Yep, still weird."

"Would you prefer I stop referring to it as such?"

Tessa shook her head. "No, thanks. That's not going to stop it being true. I'll be that girl who was dead for six hours from now on."

"You are a miracle, Dr. Bisho, much more than a human who was deceased at one point. A singular impossibility."

"Like you?"

He tarried as the elevator doors stood wide. "In a way… Yes. We are both unique collations of human technology and cosmic power. And you will adjust to that fact."

"Have you?"

Those eyes considered her again. "Not yet, but I am in the process of doing so."

"They find me unsettling now," Tessa muttered, looking toward the voices at the end of the hall.  

"They too will adjust, as they are to me."

"Thank you, Vision." She clung tighter to him as they reached the door. Tessa had to resist the urge to hold her breath, as if stopping the air to her body would keep the memories out. It wouldn't, she'd tried.

"You're welcome, Dr. Bisho," the last distinct statement she processed. It washed over her, the flush of sounds and smells and sights, emotions and sensations all helter skelter and disorienting. Tessa had to work, hard, to stay outside of it all, had to watch their mouths, find the words that matched the movements.

She finally found the voice in the room, the one the others were listening to. It was Dr. Cho's. She was speaking from beside one of Stark's holoscreens, pointing to what Tessa knew to be her brain scans. Unnervingly, without actually listening, she knew it was a lecture on their accrued information on Tessa's cosmic parasite. That was what all the recent memories in the room were whispering about. Moving any further into the room soon became impossible. Tessa had to concentrate immensely to actually listen. So, the Vision held her there in the doorway as Cho spoke.

"…Asgardian accounts to be especially informative. From this we also know Mnemosyne's initial status, its essential nature, if you will. Every sentient world has one, a beacon for these processes. Its basic composition was such that it allowed reception, transmission, and translation of neural electrochemical signals, as well as enhanced beta waves effortlessly. In short, it facilitated memory. We know now that the entity was a kind of source material and repository for it throughout eternity. Our world's entity, it was called Mnemosyne, Memory, for a very literal reason.

"Carrying on, with that innate capacity for manipulating the building blocks of memory, it was also able to receive and project exact electrochemical and beta wave patterns to duplicate memory in itself and in humans. Its manipulation and control was so extensive it could fabricate new patterns and propagate them in chosen humans, as well as completely instantiate an existing -- and, presumably, fabricated -- pattern through itself, becoming the source of memory in that moment. Stark has whimsically suggested this being the mythical inception of ghosts…

"No matter, through its connection to the complete and visceral aspect of memories, Mnemosyne could phase into a place and time of a memory. The extent to which Tessa will be able to activate these abilities is still uncertain. Besides the time-phasing, that is. I posit her corporeal temporal-linear form will inhibit her from phasing into the time of a memory, only retrieving it to herself from the…"

"The Cloud." Someone else said it. Tessa recognized Tony Stark's voice after a moment.

"Uh, yes, the memory… cloud drive. Ahem, now, we expect the manipulation of preexisting memory patterns to be the most pervasive effect that Tessa will encounter, as it was the strongest of the phenomena just listed while the plasma form of the entity was in residence here. All were well documented in accounts of it and all --save the manifestation effect presumably because of its weakened state and our limited capacity for observation -- documented by members of our team performing surveillance on the entity.

"Again, we do not know for certain if or how these functions will manifest in Tessa beyond the fact that she is now successfully receiving these signals and patterns from multiple sources in what we predict is a twenty mile radius without willing it. This is what these scan indicate. Can you confirm this Dr. Bisho?"

Tessa lost control of her knees as they all turned to look at her. Her ability to maintain conscious cognitive function, as Cho would have put it, was next. The memories were screaming into bullhorns now. Her sight faded on the edges, collapsing into darkening tunnel vision. The noise was overwhelming, its accompanying soundtrack and slew of other sensations were going to engulf her. And then, a knight in shining armor. Well, in jeans and a leather jacket, but all the same, her face was her armor, that bounce of red hair a welcome relief. And she was soft and cool and quiet. She took Tessa's arm and gave her a day she knew by heart already. Natasha rescued her and Tessa dissolved into the day she fell in love.

Somewhere in the background the real world stayed audible.

"I can confirm that, Dr. Cho, and obviously her transmission ability," Natasha said, as if from inside a fish bowl. "Come on, Tessa."

At her insistence, Tessa had to move and that meant leaving the memory, walking with her current feet in the current moment. It was less pleasant. Dr. Cho was talking excitedly to the Vision.

"Was she transmitting to you?"

"Indeed. I have recorded these for later inspection."

"And now we know the scope of its influence is not limited to purely carbon creatures." She typed hurriedly onto her tablet and then looked up, as if she were remembering she was giving a briefing to them all. "And that is all we know, thank you. Any questions?" She abandoned the sort of podium area before anyone could respond, bee lining for the Vision and speaking with him in quick, quiet bursts.

"You just shoved a limitless cosmic consciousness into a human body." Strange stood, his voice ringing out and immediately silencing Cho's and all the others' murmurs. "This is more than a matter of recorded transmissions. There are myriad questions to be addressed. You need to consider the consequences this will have on all the planes of existence."

"I agree with the Supreme." The only real king in the room spoke with conviction and magnetism. And latent threat. "And although it was not her choice, Dr. Bisho ought now to learn her responsibility as a global resource. She needs to be accessible, and not just an asset for the West. Welcome back to this realm, by the way, doctor." He looked at her in a way that made Tessa shiver. The small bow that followed only settled her nerves a smidge.

Unplanting her feet from the spot they had frozen to on the floor when he looked at her, Tessa finally made it to the seat Natasha had for her. As they sat the room bloomed into noise, and not just in Tessa's head. Under all the heated debates and conversations, she heard a voice that it felt like she hadn't for years.

"Good the see you, chica." Jess squeezed her mercilessly, giving a little gasp but not releasing her. "Whoa. You really are getting everything. Is that what it's like in your head all the time? Like a football stadium full of politicians? Hope no one has any secrets."

The little nervous chuckle Jess let out was shared by the others around Tessa, Natasha on her other side, Clint a seat over, and Kate hovering anxiously at his shoulder, doing her best guard dog imitation. Drew was missing, found in a corner tucked away from everyone else in a bathrobe and a seated fetal position. Upon closer inspection of the room, Tessa felt horribly important. Everyone she had ever met concerned with the superhero community was there, and some she didn't know. Only a second later she realized it wasn't her, with relief, it was her cosmic symbiote they were there for.

"For what it's worth, babe, I'm impressed you're in as much control as you are with all that. Not--not to put pressure on you, or say you're not… normally impressive. I--it was a weird, ass-backwards compliment. Glad you're here," Jess shut up sharply, a look of relief on her face, when the Captain stood and took his turn speaking through the chatter.

"Obviously, this is beyond a briefing now, beyond contingencies plans. This has happened and now we all have to deal with the consequences. All of us, especially Dr. Bisho, who we need to talk to, instead of talking about as though she isn't here."

As he approached, Tessa felt like crying. For herself, sure a little, but mostly for him. He sat in front of her on the coffee table, gracefully uncomfortable in his own skin. Tessa had been in awe of him before and that stayed the same for the most part, but now she wanted to make him a cup of tea and guard him from the world. How wrong so many of them had him. All that pain and he was here looking out for her.

"Hello, Tessa. Glad to see you again, although I'm sorry for the circumstances, for what Tony did to you. How are you feeling?"

Such a simple question that she couldn't answer simply. Clint had asked and she had been unable to respond. Now Steve Rogers asked, and again she couldn't really tell him. Instead, at first, she giggled. It was a tiny bit manic, the sound, but all this was so absurd, that he was sitting there asking her how she was feeling, out of all of them. She couldn't disrespect his courtesy by not answering.

"Like trampled shit," she blurted out, not at all how she'd wanted to phrase that. The next part, at least, was more to her liking. Just a whisper, "but better than you."

He shared a look with Natasha that echoed back in Tessa's mind. She shoved that aside and listened to his words. He had leaned close to her as he stood and shared with just her, "don't worry about me, doctor. That's being seen to. I'm sorry you're not recovered yet, but I think we need to ask: what do you think about all this?"

It was addressed to the room and the room responded before Tessa could. Or rather, Tessa caught their internal responses. Someone, maybe several someones, in the room had been concerned, had brought up in earnest the worry of privacy being obsolete with this development. The irony of experiencing that worry via an invasion of memory, albeit unintentional, was not lost on Tessa.

She didn't answer the Captain's question at all this time. She laughed, loudly. The memories swelled. Before she lost herself in them, she managed to say something she would regret later. But it was a very Tessa Bisho thing to say, so at least she was still herself in that regard.

"Don't worry, everyone, your secrets are safe with me. I don't want them, trust me, I won't be sharing them. Besides, I may not even be sane enough to say my own name in a few hours. No worries if I'm a vegetable."

When she laughed again, Clint stood and left, but Tessa couldn't focus on that for long. It was touch and go between the room around her body and the mini-universes around her mind. Tessa noticed she was still laughing when Natasha muttered something assuring to her, when Jess gave her another squeeze. The Captain had left, was stalking toward Stark, who had been pointedly silent for most of this meeting. T'Challa and Strange were in that orbit. As much as she wanted to witness them destroy Stark, the encroaching memories and Wanda's sudden presence were demanding Tessa's attention.  

"I can filter some of it out for you, for a little while, if you like. I have practiced more with Dr. Strange."

And she did. Tessa was left with Natasha driving a fast car on a spring day and Jessica making a call to an Avenger for a girl she hardly knew in a bad spot.


	14. Penalities

If Tessa had been more of a bitter sadist, it would have been deeply rewarding to be the thing that stumped Tony Stark. As things were, the fact gently tickled her potential for schadenfreude but, seeing as it ended up as a huge detriment to her as well, generally bummed her out hard. She would have been far better off if her condition wasn't so damn perplexing to Stark and Cho and Banner and all the other ridiculously clever minds working on fine tuning her new brain.

She might have been able to finish a task, any task, in under an hour, maybe have a full conversation, or even better, sleep. Just existing was proving pretty difficult when her grip on reality was so tenuous. And it was never quiet. Other people's crap was always bleeding into her consciousness, even when she was trying to concentrate, even with Dr. Strange and Wanda acting as a living dampening device. Like right then.

"Just clear your mind, Bichon. All we need right now is to establish a base reading for you."

Clearing her mind was a damn sight harder than how Stark made it sound. Tessa tried her best, but there was always interference. Across the room, one of Strange's eyes flicked open, bright and exasperated. A flood of noise hit Tessa as Strange refocused and began the spell again with Wanda.

"I swear, he saves his most unsavory memories for when I'm here," he grumbled under his breath, mostly to Wanda, who shared his vexation silently. Tessa was almost certain that Tony did, in fact, do this. She only got strippers and one night stands from him when Strange was around.

When the flood ebbed to a small trickle, Tessa practiced her mind calming techniques again and settled into her white room. It was quiet, finally quiet, and her mind was blank. Well, blank except for that box in the corner, the one she always knew she shouldn't open but felt compelled to anyways. It was so ornate. She had to open it.

"Damn it, Tessa! We just about had the control level!" With his level of frustration, Tony was audible even over the explosion of Tessa's past in her head.

Well, at least now she knew what that was. And so many of them link up and merged with the memories eking in. They were tantalizing.

"Focus, Dr. Bisho." Strange was the best at wrangling her out of these moments, a voice in her mind was more compelling than one outside of it.

"Sorry."

"Seriously. We only need twelve seconds, that's it. Twelve seconds of base line readings. Is that too much to ask?"

Tessa was back in her body, being yelled at by a boy-man wearing elevator shoes and a concert tee. What an improvement. "I'm trying, Stark! It's only been a few weeks--"

"Over a month."

"--and I'll-- oh, okay, over a month! Excuse the fuck outta me! It's hard, alright?! How 'bout you try steering the magic ball of confusion you stuck in my head for me!"

Just as Stark was opening that big mouth of his to shout right back Banner cleared his throat. "Guys? I'm feeling considerably more angry than I was eight seconds ago. Maybe we should direct Tessa's exopathic abilities towards something less incendiary, hmm? It's not healthy for anyone in this room for me to recall another moment of General Ross."

Stark deflated. "Yeah. Okay. Good point. Uh, Helen, how are we doing with the organics for the receptor?"

"As well as is to be expected. It would probably be easier to engineer a life form to perform this function, but we'll make do." She was holed up in her own corner of the lab, consumed with fabricating neurons. "The good news is that the transponder is communicating the pre-recorded messages."

"Fabuloso. Uh, alright, I'm going to rewire you, Tess, because just now while we've been talking I finally tricked you into your base line. And then I'm going to ask you to calmly recall something benign from your past, something no one here knows. We just need to see your signals through the relay. If this works, maybe we can test out our beta converter. As soon as Cho finishes making it all squishy-compatible." 

"I'm close…"

"She's close," Stark rolled his eyes as he looked back at Tessa. "Any time you're ready, Bisho."

"We have a feed," Banner said almost immediately. "Standard lines and variations. The receptors are working. I think she's… remembering something… with another person? I'm getting indications of dialogue."

When Stark looked her way, Tessa nodded. He grinned. "Wunderbar! Helen? How's it--"

"Come get it. I'm finished tinkering with it." She sounded like she was ready to be done with more than it.

Tony trotted around for a while, linking in the conversion device and humming something vaguely off key. Tessa wondered if he realized she could sit in on that fan boy moment of his. The man really loved AC/DC.

"Action!" He initiated the feed through the converter and basically giggled as his screen flashed with blurry shapes and color. "Ha-ha! Wow, we have it. Just needs some fine tuning and for FRIDAY to turn up the sound!" A muffled mix of voices and living sounds cropped up overhead. Tony was ecstatic. "Bruce, your algorithm worked!"

"Actually, T'Challa's transponder worked, and Dr. Cho's bioengineering, and Dr. Banner's algorithm, and accounting for mystical variables. Those things worked all in concert. Curious how you had no part in it, Tony."

Stark rolled his eyes and mockingly mouthed along with Strange as he busied himself with the sharpening and focusing of the picture. "Thanks for the reality check, Strange. Wouldn't expect anything less from you. Now, okay! Look'ee here! We have a feed and it's of… Seriously, Tessa? You recalled Deadpool? Whe--wha--why? He's anything but benign."

"He's misunderstood," Tessa snapped rather defensively, gearing up to list off how wrong Stark was. But he held a hand over her mouth.

"Look. You're remembering…" He didn't even seem to mind that Tessa was proving him wrong. He was engrossed with the montage Tessa seemed to be conjuring on the screen. So, Tessa did look. She saw Wade talking to her on her usual roof. And then, promptly appeared on that very roof.

"Whoa!" She yelped, smacking flat on her ass in the gravel. "I … I didn't mean to _come_ here! Fuck. … Well, I guess this proves the spatial phasing thing is real…"

The city was loud around her, its memories fast encroaching. Tessa looked around, stranded in a hospital gown on a roof. The breeze was a little brisk up under that paper skirt. "Now what…?" she sighed.

The first thing that occurred to her was to try to phase back to the lab, but the roof felt much more real than that place. There was her ledge. There was the splatter of her blood, all brown and faded. This place was the last one to see the real her. And Wade was the last person. She scooted forward onto her ledge and let her legs swing off it like she used to. It was too tempting not to relive that day, consider just what went wrong. That was a simple deduction: everything went wrong. She had made dumb choices, Clint tactical misjudgments, and Wade had blundered a little too hard.

"I wonder…" She hadn't seen Wade with these new eyes. It was completely possible that he still thought she was dead. That seemed cruel and unfair. Poor Wade.

Suddenly, Tessa fell splashing into warm water and bubbles. It was a bathtub. She was in a bathtub and that was the sound of gunshots ringing out around her, echoing against the tile and in her mind. With a startling indifference, she considered the crumped bullets falling from her chest to pool in her lap.

"Tessa?!"

She looked up. "You shot me."

The legs she'd fallen on squirmed and an emptied gun clattered onto the floor. "Tessa?"

"You shot me, Wade."

"You're alive!?!"

"You're naked." She pushed an island of bubbles his way, for his modesty.

"You're alive????" That answered her question. No one had bothered to tell him.

"Why are you in a bubble bath?"

"Why are you in my bubble bath? Alive?" He narrowed his eyes at her, still not properly covering himself. "Wait… Are you really Tessa?"

She didn't have time to confirm before the blade touched her throat, cool and hair thin. Tessa didn't take into account that bullets had just literally bounced off of her. She panicked and kicked, scrambling to get out of the tub. But he didn't follow. As she dripped on the floor he simply stared vacantly at her and around them.

"Do I know you? What is this place?"

Tessa paused, stopped herself from running away. He seemed genuinely confused. She padded back to the tub and gently poked him. There was silence, no usual flash-bomb of memories. Nothing. She panicked again.

"Oh, god, I broke him!" She snatched the katana from him and stuck his freshly severed finger back on. He was a danger to himself with his memories, without them… She had to do something. "What… what do I do? Strange? Now would be a good time for your psychic convergence or what the fuck ever!"

"What do you do?" Wade echoed her question with wide eyes. He was empty, like a child.

But he wasn't completely empty. He could talk and logic. Tessa grabbed his head and shut her eyes, focusing. When she calmed down and really looked and listened, he wasn't empty. "Oh, they're in there… they're just… paused." She let go and stepped away, chewing her lip.

"I just have to un-pause them. Somehow. Any suggestions?"

Wade just grinned at her. "Your dress is see through."

He was in there for sure. So, Tessa tried the most obvious solution. She poked him in the forehead and ordered, "play."

That worked. Wade's eyes dilated and he went thrashing around in the bathtub. When half the water was on the floor and both his swords back in his hands, he finally calmed down and managed to get his trademark mouthiness back on track.

"What the fucking hell?! You're not dead, great, and you can freeze my brain and teleport?! I call imposter! Mysterio?! Fish-bowl head?! Is this you? Uncool, dude! Uncool."

"It's me, Wade, not a trick, though that's just what a trick would say. Um…" Tessa frowned at the spot his blade had bounced off of her. "I have two more sweaters for Ellie. The hat I couldn't salvage."

That earned a quick glance and a shrug. "Yeah, okay." Then something caught his eye. He leaned almost all the way out of the tub, peering at her stomach. "Pretty lady… your bullet holes healed up ten kinds of messy."

"Yeah… they had some time to really set. Uh--"

"So, you have superpowers now? Or am I hallucinating this?"

"No, I do, I guess. I'll explain some other time, Wade… when I understand it. Right now I should probably go, but, uh… do… do you have gaps, Wade? Uh, things you've lost--forgotten." She still felt the cool grey areas in his mind now, even without touching him.

He dumped the water out of his gun with a shrug. "Yeah, you could say that. Don't do drugs, kids, and never put down your cup at a party. What's going on? Were your eyes always purple?"

Tessa felt absolutely despondent, out of nowhere. She had to go, get away from that feeling. "Another time, Wade. Sorry."

It was easier getting back to the lab than she'd thought. Effortless, almost. And a relief, even if she was left standing dripping in a see-through hospital gown. The group of them took a few moments to notice her.

"I told you," Strange spoke first with his eyes still closed.  

Stark's head popped up from his desk. "Ah, there you are. Where… did you… go?" He seemed to notice her drenched state and it puzzled him. "A water park?"

"Bathtub. Could I have a towel or something?"

"Sure.… Tony took the towel Banner had brought, rather pointlessly, and moved it three inches into Tessa's hand. "A bathtub, did you say?"

"Yeah, well, first the roof where I was shot, because that was where I'd last seen Wade… and well, anyways from there I went to where he was. In a bathtub."

It looked like Stark had swallowed a lemon. "I'm sorry for you."

"I'm sorry for him. I scared the crap out of him and then… did something weird, like paused his memories. I think he's brain damaged, I mean, was even before I got to him."

"Think? We know he's brain damaged. What did you say about pausing his memories?"

"I panicked and touched him and then it was like I stopped his access to his memories. He was like a talking infant. Weird. Also, why didn't anyone tell me I was invincible? That was a shock, seeing bullets and swords bounce off of me… not that I'm complaining. I'm just getting used to being alive again, after all… Still, it was… weird. Surreal."

It didn't get any less surreal. Time and again, popping up somewhere else without meaning to and having to deal with the repercussions of that was surreal, even several dozen times later. Tessa merely got better at dealing with those repercussions.

"Oh! Tess!" Jessica dropped her spoon, still loaded with peanut butter. She must have really been startled to lose her vice grip on that. "Hi. Wow. You're… uh… teleporting now?"

Tessa sighed as she pulled the severed wire connections from her head. "Apparently, and it's called phasing. Sorry for just… popping in on you like this."

"That would have been a better joke if you actually did make a popping sound."

"Yeah, I know. I'm working with what I've got. There isn't an idiom for re-assimilating my body soundlessly in the place of a memory. Anyway, I gotta go. Sorry again, Jess."

"No, it's fine. Like I'm busy." She waved around at her empty office and the stack of papers she was folding into origami. "But, wait. Hold up, I haven't seen you, you know, _seen you_ seen you like normal since… normal became old news. Let's have dinner and drink until we can't stand up straight!"

Tessa paused her attempt to manifest back at the Tower. For some reason, whenever she tried to use it, this phasing crap never worked, but when she was half naked just out from the shower and thinking about how she needed more shampoo like she got at that hair dresser Natasha told her about, poof! she ended up at Shear City.

"You're right, Jess. I'm sorry. I'll be back later. Later this week. Sometime. Okay?"

Back at the Tower, after several failed return attempts and a hilarious impression of Tony by Jess, Tessa was wishing very much she had continued failing to return.

"Bisho," the real Tony was less funny. He was a whiny exasperated man-child. And he was incredibly displeased by the wires in his hands. "Seriously, you have got to get this phasing into your 'fluent' toolbox. Or, hell, we'd settle for proficient. Anything but random as fuck, because these wires? They're one of a kind. Every time you go poofing off it severs them and we have to put 'em back together again."

He glared over at her from his welding pad. That sparked something in Tessa. She'd had just about enough of his sass and just… constant badgering. "Well, maybe you should do something then, Mr. Fix-It! Because, I didn't ask for this. Did I, Stark?"

She felt a tiny little buzz of satisfaction as Stark, practically having a defensive tantrum, received no advocacy from anyone else in the room. The best was the Vision. He looked up calmly at Stark's exaggerated sigh and flailing. "She is right, this is your fault entirely," he said as Tony gawked.

It was glorious. Perhaps a little too glorious for Tessa in her stressed state. She tried to tell the Vision she was grateful, but instead her brain short-circuited. She had just enough presence of mind about her as the wave hit to get out of that lab. Over time, Tessa had come to be able to sense, in a way, the flavor of her disinhibitions. This one was definitely of a sexual nature, and with that in mind, she focused all her remaining willpower on Clint. With any luck, their rapport could allow this flip-out to be coaxed into a bout of consensual, if over-aggressive, sex.

Miraculously, it worked. She willed it and then immediately she was standing not a foot away from him. Good timing too, because she was just getting to the part where the heat from the root of her was about to steam out her ability to control her limbs. She was as wobbly as Bambi standing there on a tattered rug in what had to be his living room.

"Tess? What's going on?" He caught her, as she teetered more precariously, and eased her onto the couch beside him. Her hands went straight for his belt. "Incident? Ha--having an incident?"

She nodded and gave up unfastening his pants to stick her tongue in his mouth. For some reason, that seemed like a good choice. The fact that his was a weak reciprocation escaped her, and Tessa hurriedly returned to his pants, straddling him once they were around his ankles. In fact, she didn't realize something was wrong until she stopped rubbing herself against him long enough to actually pull out his dick. That was sobering, for about a minute. She even regained the ability to speak as her body was forced to process the fact that he wasn't going to be able to do this favor for her.

"Wh-what's with your penis?"

Clint pulled his boxers back into place and buttoned her back up as well. "Uh… Tessa, listen…"

"Not you… me. Got it." She'd seen enough movies to know what was following, even in her hazy mental state. She stumbled backwards off his legs and tried to be somewhere else. Somewhere with someone who was actually attracted to her.

"No, Tess, actually, it's… more than just that. Wait. Please, I've got to say this. I don't want you to think-- It's because I got you killed, okay? You died because I was careless, careless and distracted because of this kind of bad decision-making right here. Us having casual sex, with Drew especially, was never going to be just casual or healthy. None… none of us have our shit well enough together… three fuck ups fucking is not a plan for success. Even then, you can't be having sex on a team that works in the field together. It gets dangerous, obviously, puts lives in the crossfire. I was selfish because I wanted the comfort and it was convenient. But really, it was dumb. Dumb and codependent and… dumb."

Tessa knew this. She'd known all this after the first time. And the clarity of knowing that made it all the worse. Her brain flamed up again, but now more out of embarrassment, shame. She had to get out of there and not think about the completely logical and correct things he was saying. She had to get to Drew and disappear into her sweet cloud of non-choice. But she couldn't move. Or talk. She just stared at him and the pain on his face.

"I'm sorry, Tessa. I'm sorry."

"You do remember I'm here, don't you?"

They both snapped their heads up. Kate was leaning over the railing of the loft looking positively horrified.

"Oh, Christ," Clint groaned, face falling towards his hands. But Tessa didn't see it make it. She was gone, the tripled embarrassment enough to fuel her escape. And escape she did, right into Drew's self-destructive, bored, beautiful arms.


	15. Change Up Pitch

When Tessa wasn't in the throes of disinhibition, she had found that she preferred to keep herself as composed in all things as was possible. So, it was with immediate regret that she slammed her way into her room that afternoon. It had been a long morning of disappointment and frustration, so her nerves were fried. With Strange it was 'do', no 'don't' nor 'try'. He was the worst Yoda ever. Sadly, 'don't' was all Tessa managed in their daily meditation practice. Some sessions, Tessa had actually been able to tune out all but the memories of those in her immediate vicinity. Today, not so much. Strange had called her mind a 'vortex of chaos,' and suggested that she take some palliative measures that Tessa didn't listen to. She was busy dwelling on just how poorly she was coping, poorly enough to actually interrupt Wanda's training. She couldn't learn to dampen Tessa if Tessa couldn't rein it in enough to be dampened.

Add on top of that another utter failure in the science department and Tessa was officially despondent. Banner had collected her out from Strange's stern gaze and ushered her into the lab, only to have their newest disinhibition fix backfire. Tessa had opted to be sedated, but even when she came to again, her chest was thrumming. She needed a release. If she didn't find one, her brain would force one on her. And yet, or maybe because of that, Tessa went to her own room. There she could slam things around, scream and act out where no one would see or be affected. Then wait until the next incident happened.

That had been the plan, at least. Pacing her room, however, it didn't appear to be a viable one. She needed to choose somebody, find them, or it was going to be left to fate whom she would find first and harass. Not a great option. Her easy out was no longer easy. Drew was neck deep in her own shit, her parents had resurfaced and her anxiety was through the roof. Suddenly, she was in the lab almost as much as Tessa. Floating and zapping people tended to get Stark and Co.'s attention. With her working out what was with her fucked up body chemistry, Drew wasn't exactly available to be Tessa's fun, carefree, adult outlet. Besides that, their friendship was tenuous at best when they weren't naked. Clint was permanently off the line up and Tessa had no one else, even to talk her down. Natasha riled her up, by no fault of her own, and Jess was novice at the job. Again, Tessa found herself alone in a tight spot.

The spot was so tight, she was actually weighing her current need against the future self-loathing that would come with fucking Stark. How low she had tumbled. Not rock bottom, though. She weighed but did not follow through with seducing Stark. It was too deplorable even for her chemically addled brain. She did, however, begin considering approaching Wanda and the Vision, getting in on their robo-flesh action. Her imagination had just stooped to wondering what kind of dick he had, if any, when Tessa stopped in front of a crayon drawing. The enviable thing, the comfortable thing that they had, since they were undoubtedly attached romantically, was friendship before fuckship. And right there, staring Tessa in the face was another potential option for her to have the very same thing.

"Wade. Of course."

It hadn't worked with her and Clint, but theirs was a different situation than her and Wade. Wade was just a cameo in her work, someone who showed up occasionally. But they were still friends already, easy around one another. Yes, he was her best chance.

"Wade. Wade. Wade. Wade, Wade, Wade," she muttered to herself over and over, trying to conjure herself in front of him.

At least she was improving on one front. She couldn't stop herself from involuntarily phasing away, but when she wanted to she could usually pop up where she focused on. And there she was not two feet in front of Wade as he unpacked some frankly unsettlingly large guns.

"Pretty lady, you're in my gun drop. What're you doing in my sixth most awesome gun drop? The bath is one thing, but my gun drops are "me spaces," pretty lady."

Tessa shrugged her shirt off her shoulders, let it drop to the ground. Made her shorts follow. "I was just looking for you, Wade. I need help with a problem…"

Now, when Tessa phased to him, she'd had a vague idea that what she was doing was a bit of an exercise in control. She figured, by sleeping with Wade, that she was controlling herself as she lost control, like a crash landing. It was not until after she convinced him to involve himself, until she manipulated him to her advantage, that Tessa realized it was more than a little bit about control. Her rational faculties were in full swing when she made her decision, when she smooth-talked his clothes off, when she wiggled just the right way. All that was her being in complete control and choosing to disregard what most people would see as inhibition. Her problem opened the floodgates, yes, but Tessa was the one who jumped into the surge.

This all became glaringly, painfully clear, as she lay on the cold hard concrete, wishing to be lost in the power over someone else's pleasure again. She felt unsatisfied and foolish, and worst of all, she could look back and see this to be the same as every situation before it. She just couldn't ignore the dissatisfaction this time.

She gave in to the license of her whim, because in doing so she felt needed, necessary, and in that, like she had power. The ability to make other people satisfied, withholding and granting it, that was power. Except when it wasn't, when there was no power, just two people doing something very stupid that neither of them really wanted and definitely never needed. Then, neither had the power, they left that to their bodies. With Wade, Tessa had finally found someone who hated themselves so much that there was no losing themselves in the act. He was never really in control of anything and he accepted that, but that didn't mean that he liked it. He pretended that he didn't know, but he did, and that showed on his face. He made her see what they were doing for what it really was. Grappling for control, hoping to belong.

And now, Tessa was far less in control than before. Her illusion was smashed and she was spiraling in a chasm of second guesses and regret.

Once Wade was asleep, Tessa couldn't keep her composure any more. She scrambled away, finding her clothes just in time to stifle the tears in them. What a sad, pitiful lie she had been living. What a little monster she'd allowed herself to become. A parasite. And so she cried. She let the tears spill into her shirt and choked on hard gasps as the truth of all her actions dawned on her. So, this was a moment of clarity?  

After a few self-indulgent moments, Tessa decided she just should leave, just pull on her clothes and slink off. She didn't get any further than turning her shorts right-side-out. When she found that drawing in a pocket, she completely lost her cool. He'd needed her before this, as a friend, and definitely without the sexual power dynamic. She was poisoning her life with this. The sobbing woke Wade this time, probably because Tessa was just a few decibels away from wailing.

"I won't lie, this isn't the first time I've woken up to crying after the boom-boom, but usually they aren't staring down at one of my drawings."

Tessa could see through swollen eyes that Wade had pulled on just his boxers and mask. She would've cringed at this if her face weren't so puffy. He sat down on a crate across from her and began pulling on the rest of his outfit.

"Did you not want to hurt my feelings during the sweaty part? I get that, I make choices I wish I hadn't all the time. You won't hurt me if you say that's it. I mean, it was really nice of you to wait until after we finished."

With him being like this, the same, deranged in a charming way, Tessa could only cry harder. Wade sighed and found a nearby gun, took her hand and put it in it.

"Here. I know what'll make you feel better. Just shoot me. Here, right in the chest. I'll be fine and it'll be like you made the mistake go away at the same time! Wait… are you crying because I'm… eww, or because I was selfish? I've heard that complaint before, and if that's the case, I'll stand so you can shoot me in the goods. I guess I probably could've gone a little longer with the--"

Tessa tossed the gun to the floor. "No, Wade. It wasn't… it wasn't your performance or you, or anything to do with you at all." Her voice sounded nasty, all mucus clogged and crackly. "I'm disgusted with myself."

"Now, I know your goody-two-shoes friends don't like me because… well, they have their reasons, but I'm not really that bad when--"

"Again, no. Not you…" She wiped her face on the inside of her shorts and then pulled them on. The pity party was over. "This was just a horrible decision. You didn't really want this. I didn't really want this… I just… I just… Fuck. I just needed to feel needed, I guess? And like I had some modicum of control? But why did I do it this way? To you? Why couldn't I just let you be my friend? Why do I always have to feel needed, feel empowered this way?"

He stood with her, followed her to the rest of her clothing. "You weren't grossed out by me? I wasn't horrible?"

"I knew who I was quite literally climbing into bed with, Wade. I've seen you without your mask. I know your history."

"Oh…" With a huge sigh he flopped down beside where she was finishing dressing. "So, besides the whole hating yourself and having no self-respect, this wasn't objectively horrible?"

"No, you weren't bad," Tessa said with a sad laugh, not entirely certain if she was being truthful or not. "Now, I need you to forget this. Please."

Wade flinched as she patted his shoulder. After a second he looked back up at her and asked, "what? You're not going to make me?"

"God, no. That would be horrible… er. Horribler. More horrible… anyway, no. Like I haven't already manipulated you enough? No, I need you to pretend to forget, please. And if you still feel up to it, just be my friend. Like before, without the… gross sexual power dynamic."

"Done and done!" He popped up onto his feet with a giggle. "I really shouldn't have done this anyway. I'm already on thin ice with my wife."

Tessa could feel her ears burning, a host of questions and worries flurrying to mind. But then her phone chirruped and she had to put all that baggage aside for another time. It was Banner, a quick text. They had a new possibility for her disinhibition correction. Time to leave.

"Right… so, to recap: I'm sorry, and this never happened. I'll, uh, be seeing you, Wade."

He was waving when she left, but that didn't soften the pit in her stomach any. She would just have to deal with that like it was one more thing. Those things sure were mounting up. Regrets. Wade had hit that nail on the head. Regrets about who she was, not exactly easy things to just push aside. As such, of course, once Banner and the gang had Tessa all wired up, ready to run a test for the disinhibition correction device's new component, that was what was on her mind. And so, when the new component didn't work, when it malfunctioned but Stark's memory monitor did not, Tessa ultimately dwelt on her newest, private mistake publically in front of them all.

Seeing it on the big monitor didn't faze her. Seeing their reactions didn't faze her. Tessa was unflappable at this point, her own self-disgust couldn't be equaled by their reactions. No embarrassment even touched her, no disappointment either. She merely accepted that the brain patch was a failure and firmly excused herself from the lab. That way they could talk about her more comfortably.

Down in her room her situation didn't change much. No emotion could supersede the self-disgust, but shame joined the party to feed it. That left Tessa in a depressed funk. She didn't even move when her phone rang, when her door was knocked on several times. It just couldn't happen, she was trapped in herself. Sometime later, actually much later because her room was dark and had been for some time since Tessa couldn't bring herself to turn a light on, there was another loud knock on her door. When it wasn't answered there was a clang and some snapping noises and the door unsealed. Clint was on the other side, and he looked worked up.

"What in the hell were you thinking, Tess? That was dangerous. And stupid. Stupidly dangerous. Do you have a death wish?" He didn't sound angry. The feeling behind his voice was more of the worried variety. "You're better than that. You have to know you're better than that."

That lie, that misunderstanding was enough to get Tessa moving again. She shook her head as she looked up at him. "I'm not, though. I did the exact same thing to you. It's all I know how to do. As for it being stupid and dangerous, I know it was stupid, just like every other time. So stupid. But dangerous? For me? I doubt it. I'm already damaged… apparently I like to spread that. So, I'm the dangerous one. … … … Yeah, I don't… I don't think I'm better than much of anything now. … And, I'm sorry I pulled you into this… whole… fuck up."

He was staring at her, jaw dropped just an inch. It took him a beat or so to respond. "But… but I took advantage of you. You didn't pull me into anything. I did it, it's my knack for failure that fucked everything up."

"No, Clint. Maybe we took advantage of each other, maybe we share fault, but it certainly isn't all on you. … … And mine, my fault, I'm pretty sure mine was worse. At least you were honest with yourself about why you did it…"

Tessa hardly had to think to find herself in Natasha's presence.

"Tessa. What's happened?"

It was a visceral struggle not to run to her, fall into Natasha's arms. Instead, Tessa took a deep breath and pointed to the table beside her bed. Natasha nodded and joined her after grabbing two glasses and a bottle from on top of her wardrobe.

"First, are you okay? You're not injured are you?"

Tessa shook her head and downed the whole glass just poured for her. It burned but, in doing so, felt like it cleared away even more of the bullshit. "I'm not okay, but I'm not injured. I… uh… I've had my eyes opened and I didn't like what I saw."

"I know the feeling. Go on."

Tessa considered Natasha for a second, wondering how she could word this in a way to not disgust her too. But then she realized that wasn't any better. She wasn't helping herself by lying anymore in any degree. All out with it, then.

"I've been lying to myself, to everyone, for a while now… maybe I've just been deluded or… convinced by--it doesn’t matter. I doesn't matter how or why, just that I've been wrong."

Natasha grabbed her arm, stopped her from downing the next glass. With her brows knitted she said, "conditioning is not your fault, Tessa. What--whatever you think you've been lying about, it's possible you were conditioned to think it was normal, true. Consider that before you blame yourself."

"I…I--maybe. All the same, though, Natasha, I've misrepresented my degree of control in my disinhibition attacks. Since…since I died, it's become more… tangible that it's me giving in to it rather than it taking me. I've been more and more consciously choosing to let it take over. At first, I thought it was because I was tired, tired of fighting it and being so helpless. Then, it… it stopped being something I wanted to fight. I gave in because… it was an excuse. I liked it, because I didn't have to explain myself. I liked something about it, the way people responded to what I was suddenly doing, to the power maybe? It certainly isn't… the pleasure. I--I think it's the power, it's what I want when I feel out of control. I'm so fucked up…"

"Tessa?" Natasha's voice was cautious. Her face painted the same demeanor, with an added hint of sadness. "Was that you? Was that girl you just showed me you. Were you the one with the doctor?"

A cold sweat broke out over Tessa's body. She shouldn't have been thinking about that day. That was a secret. That was her deepest, darkest secret. No one was supposed to know what happened that day. No one. But Tessa was quiet for too long and suddenly someone did know.

"That is horrific, that he did that to you. Horrific. And, I wish I had known about it… Tessa, listen to me. This is important, something I had to learn for myself and it changed me. Listen, please. You are not defined by who touches you, or whom you touch. Okay? You're the one to choose who you are, for yourself. Your life, your choice. I meant that. Don't let anyone or anything else convince you otherwise."

Tessa nodded but had never felt less like she held the reins on her life. Natasha seemed to sense that. She took a drink and pushed her hair out if her face. "I think you need a change. Is that what you think?"

"Yes. Undoubtedly."

"Yes… my suggestion, Tessa, would be… a change. You need--what I think you need is control. You need to be left to exercise volition without other people delimiting it. You need… independence, to feel how that works. And to have that, you can't be here. We made a mistake--I made a mistake bringing you here and thinking we would be good for you. I made another abandoning you here. We were all deluded, I think. Clint and I and the others were deluded in thinking that it was solely altruism driving our decisions.

"We were oblivious in our own way, Tessa, oblivious to the fact that our lives are codependent, at best… and at worst, toxic to others. Everything is out of control here, that isn't just you. There's an obsession with control, as a result, a selfishness to it. And it's no place for you to find your own for the first time. I would… recommend that you leave, that you find somewhere else to live, that is. You need to have a space away from our… poisonous lifestyles, so you don't have to deal with them 24/7."

"That… that was actually what I was thinking." Since the words had spilled out of her mouth, actually, and her confession had begun, Tessa had had a feeling of what was needed. She needed space. From them, yes, from temptation. But she also just needed to make the decision that she was going to create a space for herself in this world. She was going to find herself. And, until she did, until she could see herself as a person regardless of how she related to anyone else, she was going to exist on the periphery for everyone.

Sex was the problem. Tessa had been forced into an identity by sex, its definition of need and control. She was excising it from her life. It would not define her, not in her relationships, not in her identity. She would stop thinking through its lens, stop participating in it, until it was just a thing that she controlled, instead of it controlling her. Never again would she define herself in relation to others through that yardstick. Never.

Exhausted wasn't strong enough a word to describe Tessa as she slogged up the stairs to Jess's apartment that evening. Slogged she did, all the same. And it only took her four tries to knock on the door.

Jess was surprised, needless to say, when she answered. "Chica with the curve ball… I thought you'd blown me off forever. What happened, Tess? Uh… why do you have a little knapsack like you're hitchhiking to the circus?"

Tessa wilted as she stepped inside. "Do you mind if I stay with you for a while?"

"Sure, babe, sure. Make yourself at home. And, uh… why don't you start at the beginning?"

**Author's Note:**

> Jessica Jones- I have no idea where this Jessica comes from but she's been a voice in my head for a while... I think of her as a combination of Eliza Dushku and Sailor Jupiter meets Freema Agyeman. Don't ask. She's clearly not the Krysten Ritter MCU version we'll get and I'm okay with that. She kicks ass and will largely follow her 616 arc.  
> Natasha Romanoff- my sun, my moon, my stars. I love Natasha Romanova. I bet you'll get that in the following chapters. She's CA:WS Natasha, plain and simple. And she deserved better. Period.  
> Clint Barton- Hawkguy. I'm talking, Matt Fraction, human crap sack, Clint Barton. This is 616 Clint and I will take no substitutes. Not Ultimate. 616. Not Jeremy Renner. Think, 6'2", fit but floundering marksman. Think Jensen Ackles, think Michael Ealy, think Chris Pine, think Tyler Hoechlin, think anybody, I don't care, but he's not Jeremy Renner. He's deaf and a walking disaster, who lives in Bed-Stuey with a dog, probably eating pizza and drinking coffee, hating himself. That's my Clint Barton.  
> Tony Stark- largely MCU. I'm among the converted masses who, after the trailer premiered for the film, could not hear the words Iron Man or Tony Stark without conjuring RDJ's face into their head. That was in 2007. RDJ's been my Tony Stark for eight fucking years. Damn you, RDJ.  
> Helen Cho- One of the few gems squirreled away from the film that shall not be named. I think she deserved more, which sadly she won't get much of here as I'm already juggling a fuck ton of characters. But I won't go against canon characterization...  
> Steve Rogers and Co.- when they appear you will hopefully recognize them as being CA:WS+ some 616 qualities. I haven't deviated much with the Captains. Sam Wilson is a perfect treasure. Oh, and I love Bucky Barnes.  
> Vision & Wanda Maximoff- the other two gems stolen away with Helen Cho. They'll be chimeras of their MCU and 616 selves as well.  
> Dr. Strange & T'Challa- So... these two are COMING SOON, but I haven't seen much about them beyond the obvious, so they're conjured from my speculations about the MCU future and the 616.  
> Dr. Bruce Banner- Sweet turtledove. This one is Mark Ruffalo through and through. His performance in the Avengers made a lasting impression despite my skepticism coming in. But from The Avengers only. Though, I don't know where else you'd get an idea of his Marvel cinematic presence...  
> Wade Wilson a.k.a. Deadpool a.k.a. The Merc' with a Mouth a.k.a. -- that's enough. Ah, Deadpool. Finally getting the attention you deserve, even if it's entirely retconned. I'm fine with it. All the same, despite Ryan Reynolds taking another crack at our Regenerating Degenerate, this is 616 Deadpool, the demented, the psychotic, the endearing. You can picture Ryan Reynolds if you want. That's your prerogative (and canon according to Kelly). But he better have Demi Moore's voice in your head.  
> The rest... should be obvious. Or you could ask. Whatever floats your boat.


End file.
